


The Wool-White, Bell-Tongued Ball of Holidays

by Coneycat



Series: Housemates [6]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Festivus, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hanukkah, Holidays, Humor, Kwanzaa, Warning: Fruitcake, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 52,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coneycat/pseuds/Coneycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and his Bristol housemates do not usually celebrate holidays. Thor is clueless about Midgardian observances. And the Avengers are pretty much a bunch of outcasts without families to celebrate with. Tony Stark has a plan to change all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **_Notes:_** I'm really sorry about this piece of out-of-season foolishness-- I blame HebiR on FF.net, and Mikkeneko. Thanks for the suggestions-- I simply could not resist them. 
> 
> About Coulson's mother-- I created her as a plot device for a previous story, when I needed an excuse for the Avengers to celebrate (US) Thanksgiving on a weekend instead of the Thursday. And now I'm stuck with her, so you are, too!
> 
>  **Warnings:** None. Well, except for fruitcake, but that comes later.
> 
> Also-- note the relationship tags. The Annie/Loki one just came up, without my having to type it all in!

"I've thought of everything," the genius announced with a cackle, "and there is no way my plan can go wrong! A-haha! A-hahaha!"

"You know, Tony," Steve Rogers remarked, as he handed over a tumbler of Scotch and water, "you should probably take a little break. You're starting to laugh like a supervillain."

Tony Stark grinned sheepishly as he accepted the drink. "Well, you've got to admit, I _have_ thought of everything."

Pepper, sitting on the sofa next to him with a glass of white wine, rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, it was ingenious of you to decide to invite Mrs. Coulson. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to celebrate Christmas with a bunch of strangers in a foreign country."

Tony shrugged. "Well, I figure the only way we have a chance of getting Coulson to come is to invite his mother, too. And if it's just the two of them, she might enjoy getting away for the holidays. And not having to cook." He considered. "Or anyway not do _all_ of the cooking."

Pepper sipped her wine. "I'm sure Coulson cooks, too."

Steve looked thoughtful. "And she might even appreciate a big confusing noisy Christmas." Tony made a face at him, and Steve protested, "No, I'm serious. I mean, for all we know Coulson has six brothers and sisters and they've all got eight kids each, but if it really is just the two of them and they normally have a really quiet holiday… You never know. It might be a nice change for them, to be around a lot of people."

"Anyway," Tony said, holding his glass up to admire the light through the amber liquor, "we'll see what they say." He looked around the cozy living room of Steve's third-floor brownstone apartment, admiring built-in bookshelves, art prints on the walls, and the tall narrow bay windows. "Have I mentioned how much I like what you've done with the place? Because I really like what you've done with the place."

Steve wriggled in embarrassment. "Thanks. I like these old buildings, they feel… homey." 

"Hey, the Tower's homey. Doesn’t the Tower feel homey, Pepper?" Tony protested. 

"Of course," Pepper replied, with one of her humouring-Tony smiles. "Particularly if your idea of _home_ is the Massachussetts Institute of Technology." 

"Like I said," Tony shrugged cheerfully, and turned his attention back to the StarkPad on his lap. "Now, here's the plan of campaign. We'll tell Fury and Hill that they _have_ to come, because if something breaks out over the holidays-- "

"Wait a minute, Tony, you're not telling us you've heard of anything-- ?" Pepper demanded. 

"No, no, of course not. Dr. Doom will be tucked away in Latveria drinking eggnog, or whatever supervillains do in Latveria."

"Eat fruitcake," Steve offered. When the other two looked at him, he shrugged. "Well, _someone_ must eat it."

Tony grinned. "Good point. Anyway, not even supervillains want to ruin Christmas. I just meant, we'll tell them that _if_ the Avengers have to assemble, having Fury and Hill on the scene will make everything much easier."

"That actually makes sense," Steve agreed, frowning.

"Of course it does," Tony replied, setting down the Scotch and picking up his mug of cold coffee. "And it'll probably work on Coulson, too."

"Although not necessarily on his mother," Pepper noted. 

"Can't have everything," Tony shrugged. "Not that I would know anything about that." He consulted his StarkPad again. "Now. Clint will come because, face it, who's Clint got besides us?" He looked around guiltily, as if he regretted blurting that out, and also as if he was expecting another rebuke. Pepper and Steve just looked sympathetic. "Obviously, we won't word it like that," Tony added, in an abashed mumble. "But anyway-- Natasha will be in if Clint is."

"What about Bruce?" Pepper asked. 

"Same as Clint, I figure. And since we're not all _actually_ family, surely we can promise him we won't all get into a fight that might, you know, set him off.

"And speaking of family-- I'm sure if we sell this _as_ a family holiday, we can get Thor and Loki on board."

"And Loki's household," Pepper prompted. 

"Of course 'and Loki's household'," Tony agreed. 

"George is Jewish, isn't he?" Steve said suddenly.

"I don't know, is he?" Tony asked, surprised. 

"He wears a Star of David pendant," Pepper backed Steve. "Which doesn't mean he'd necessarily _mind_ coming to a Christmas house party. We just need to be aware he _might._ "

Tony looked distressed. "Well, my God, it's not like we're going to frog-march everyone to church on Christmas Eve or anything."

"I'd actually like to go to church on Christmas Eve," Steve said quietly, at the same time Pepper said, "No, I don't think dragging the Jewish werewolf-- _or the vampire_ \-- to church would be the best idea."

"Nobody says you _can't_ go to church," Tony said quickly to Steve, making a note on the StarkPad. "If you _want_ to." He turned to Pepper. "But really, what I have in mind is more… is more a big Avengers holiday party. Secular, I mean." His eyes were beginning to gleam. "Multicultural, even. Yeah. We can definitely-- " He broke off and began typing rapidly on the touchscreen of the StarkPad. 

"Should we have a bad feeling about this?" Steve asked Pepper, aside.

"Probably," Pepper replied, and poured herself some more wine.

~oOo~

Loki was at work when the message arrived, but it promptly crashed the email program on his mobile phone and he had to wait until he got home to open it on the computer at the house. And then he realized it was also addressed to Annie, George, and Mitchell, and so it seemed only fair to wait for everyone to be able to open it together anyway. 

"Do you have any idea what it is?" he asked Annie, who was looking curiously over his shoulder. 

"No," Annie replied. "But since it's from Tony Stark, I assume there's some kind of convoluted file embedded in it that made your phone freak out."

"I wonder if the others have been able to open it?" Loki asked. He got his answer almost in the same breath, as his mobile buzzed in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out to find a text message from George, directed to both himself and Mitchell:

_If you get a message from Tony DO NOT OPEN IT on your phone!_

"Apparently not," Annie murmured, as Loki tapped out a quick reply:

_Too late. Am waiting at home for you both so we may read it together on the computer._

A moment later another message arrived, from Mitchell:

_Aw, how sweet. :)_

From George:

_Are we sure it won't blow up the computer?_

Annie and Loki exchanged a look. Annie made a palms-up gesture. 

"Only one way to find out," she said. 

~oOo~

All four housemates were gathered on the sofa, staring at the laptop on the coffee table before them. After what the message had done to the email on their cell phones (George had needed to reinstall his program from scratch) they were a little afraid to unleash it on their computer. 

"Well," Mitchell said finally, "I suppose we can't put it off any longer." He started to log into his email program to try the message again, then paused to glance at Loki. "You know, whatever happens, there probably won't be projectiles or an explosion." Loki glanced sheepishly down at his hands, which were curled protectively around the two black-and-white adolescent kittens in his lap. 

"Better safe than sorry," he muttered, embarrassed, and scratched the two little heads. As Philip and Elizabeth purred at him, Mitchell grinned and opened the email attachment. 

For a moment, nothing happened at all. And then the screen went dark, creating the momentary impression their laptop had also been overwhelmed by the message. Mitchell was just cursing and reaching for the power button when they heard the sound of tiny jets. A moment later, an animated Iron Man came flying in from the left side of the screen. He was carrying a large gift-wrapped box with a bow on it. 

As the friends leaned forward in fascination, and the kittens wriggled in Loki's lap for a better look, Iron Man set down the box in the middle of the screen and turned to wave at them. And then, in both an audio format (the voice was that of JARVIS, Tony's electronic assistant) and in large and very fancy subtitles, a message was delivered:

_You are hereby invited to the Wool-White, Bell-Tongued Ball of Holidays--_

"Apparently," said George, "someone has been reading Dylan Thomas."

"We can assume it's being held at the rim of the carol-singing sea, then?" Mitchell speculated incomprehensibly.

_\-- which is being held at Tony Stark's lodge in Scotland, from December 22- 27, and which you DO NOT WANT TO MISS._

_What, you may ask, is the Wool-White, Bell-Tongued Ball of Holidays?_

"What a coincidence. That was indeed my next question," Loki murmured, sliding over a little to accommodate Scamp the dog as she scrambled onto the sofa between himself and Annie. (Being a ghost, Scamp did not generally need to be accommodated, but when sitting between a sorcerer and another ghost, the rules were different.) Philip opened one eye, glanced at the dog, and then settled down more firmly in Loki's lap as though staking claim on behalf of all kittenkind.

Onscreen, animated Iron Man (and JARVIS) explained, 

_It's Christmas!_

Here the gift box opened, and out crawled an animated Captain America. Over his shoulder he carried a fully-decorated Christmas tree. He waved at the "audience," set down the tree, and walked off the right side of the screen. 

_And Hanukkah!_

From the box emerged a fluffy werewolf, wearing a Star of David pendant and carrying a candelabrum with nine lit candles in it.

"Ooh, George, it's you!" Annie exclaimed unnecessarily. 

The werewolf set down the candelabrum next to the Christmas tree, considered, and moved it to a careful distance from the tree. He then waved and walked off in the same direction as Captain America. 

_Kwanzaa!_

Out of the box came what had to be Nick Fury, garbed in black and holding a red, black, and green flag on a stick. He planted the stick in the ground beside the Christmas tree, made a gesture indicating impatience with the viewers, and also with Iron Man, and followed the other two characters.

_Yule!_

"Oh," said Loki, very startled, as a little Thor, in red and black, climbed out of the box and then reached in to offer assistance to a little animated Loki, in green and bronze and wearing the supervillainous horned helmet Tony found so much more amusing than Loki did. 

The animated Loki was struggling with a log of wood, which Thor steadied while Loki climbed out of the box, and then both animated brothers carried it over to the rest of the symbols, setting it down between the candelabrum and the flag. Thor waved, Loki fired a blast of magic that ignited the log, and they walked hand-in-hand off the right side of the screen. 

"Aww," said Annie, sentimentally.

The flames from the burning Yule log climbed higher and higher. Just before they would have set the tree and the flag on fire, an animated "bot" arm emerged from the box, clutching a fire extinguisher, and cast a blast of white over everything. Animated Iron Man put his hands to his head as the arm retreated. 

_And Festivus!_

_"For the rest of us!"_ cried a host of animated Avengers and their friends, including Annie, Mitchell, Pepper, and Agent Coulson, as they also jumped out of the box and went running and skipping and cartwheeling (and walking, in the case of Agent Coulson) off the right side of the screen. 

Iron Man watched them go, then faced front once more. 

_It's all the observances-- and all the food-- we can fit into a week. It's sledding and caroling and feasting and hot chocolate by the fire. It's a time for family and friends and relaxing and feasting. Have we mentioned feasting?_

_It's the revolutionary, non-pollutionary--_

"It appears he has also been studying _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,_ " Loki observed.

_\-- spectacular holiday wonderfest--_

"You have to appreciate his gift for refined understatement," Mitchell remarked. 

"I was just thinking that," George agreed.

_\-- and YOU ARE INVITED! Bring yourself! Bring your family! Bring your pets!_

Iron Man closed the box (the bot arm tried to reach out and had to be pushed back) then picked it up and flew after his friends. The screen went dark. The housemates looked at each other. 

"Are we meant to reply by email?" George asked. 

"I must have missed that part," Mitchell said. 

"I think we should watch the invitation again," Loki suggested. 

And they did that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** This is probably a good time to mention two things: first, despite the rule that you should never mention a supervillain in the first chapter unless you intend to arrest him in the last (Chekhov's Supervillain) there will  not be a supervillainous crisis in this story unless I completely lose control of the plot. (And hey, I think I've cited Dr. Doom in every second installment of this series and he hasn't shown up yet.) Also, Tony doesn’t want to offend anyone (quite the opposite) but if he (and I) end up doing so, we apologize in advance.
> 
> Also, I've found a model for Tony's Scottish house, although to call it a "hunting lodge" is a bit much. Just Google "Arisaig House."
> 
>  **Warnings:** Still none. Except for eventual fruitcake. And some teasing, if you find teasing triggery. Sorry about that.

Loki sat in the corner of the train compartment, a large black-and-white cat purring in his lap, eating an apple and reading his new copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_. Mitchell, meanwhile, practiced levitation charms and peered out the door to flag down any of their friends who passed by in the corridor. Loki preferred to sit by the window, both so that he could look out at the passing countryside and also so he would be less easily spotted by passing Gryffindors or Slytherins. 

Loki got on with his Gryffindor brother, but some of Thor's housemates-- not, obviously, Mitchell-- seemed to think there was disgrace in the Sorting Hat's choice to put Loki in any House but theirs. They were not intentionally cruel in their observations, but their tendency to commiserate over his fate had, on occasion, provoked Loki to improper use of Stunning spells in the corridors, and with his brother now Head Boy and two of his closest friends prefects, Loki knew any misbehavior by himself would reflect badly on them. 

The Slytherins took his House even more personally than did the Gryffindors-- Loki was, in some convoluted way, related by blood to the late Professor Snape (if only on the Muggle side), and the ignominy of his assignment to Hufflepuff grated upon them. Loki could not conceivably have cared less what (most of) the Slytherins thought of him, but he had better sense than to enter into open conflict with that House, and so he tried to avoid them.

All of which Loki forgot about when the compartment door opened and Annie and George came in. They were already in robes and wearing their new badges marking them as prefects in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Loki put his book away as Annie dropped to the seat beside him, and George crawled over Mitchell to sit across from Loki.

"All briefed on your duties?" Mitchell asked brightly, offering George a Chocolate Frog. 

"Yes, for now," George replied, as he unwrapped the candy. "We've got to start organizing the first-years in a few minutes."

"You should both put your robes on," Annie added, accepting the pumpkin pasty Loki had saved for her. "We're nearly there. Loki? Loki. We're nearly there.

"Wake up, Loki, we're nearly there."

Loki opened his eyes and found himself, again, in a train carriage-- _not_ on the Hogwarts Express, but a regular standard-class coach. His head was bumping into the window, padded by the rolled-up coat he was using as a pillow. 

"Hmm?" he asked, head still woolly from his peculiarly vivid dreams. 

Annie smiled at him. "The next stop is Thurso, the end of the line. Come on, we'll be getting off in a few minutes."

Loki stretched and looked around. Mitchell was waking George, who appeared even more muddled with sleep than Loki suspected he did himself. 

The friends had managed to find a set of four seats facing each other, which was only uncomfortable when they tried to sleep and kicked each other's tangled feet. Sleeping compartments would have been more comfortable, but with five changes of train over the course of the nearly twenty-four hour journey it would have been impractical, to say nothing of the expense. 

Elizabeth, sitting on the seat back above his head, squeaked in protest when Loki reached up and took hold of her. None of the other passengers paid any attention to her, or to Philip: the glamour Loki had placed on their pets (and the litter box and food dishes) had held even while he slept. In the wake of his dream, Loki felt rather smug about that: surely this was magic well beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Levels.

A few minutes later the train was grinding and squealing to a halt. Loki and his friends gathered their belongings (including the remains of a packed lunch, and a glamoured cat basket that now emitted sad mews), packed up everything, and joined the line of disembarking passengers. Scamp-- also under a glamour-- followed closely. It could not hurt her to be stepped on, but she did not like it, so she tucked herself between Annie and Loki and looked suspiciously at all the other passing feet. 

When they climbed down from the train, however, Scamp jumped off ahead and went skipping across the platform before them. Her two-legged companions followed and, as they walked away from the train, Loki released the glamour on her. A moment later, Tony Stark emerged from the station and waved to them. 

"Hey," he greeted Mitchell, who was in the lead, "good to see you. Hi there," he addressed Scamp, who wagged her tail and wiggled at him. "Have you got everything, or do you need to wait for-- Jesus Christ, Annie!"

"What?" Annie exclaimed, startled. Tony was looking at her with wide eyes, and Annie gave him a cheeky smile. "You look as if you've seen a ghost!"

Tony took a breath and began to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, Annie, Thor told us you were visible these days, but it's just... startling."

"I was pretty surprised myself," Annie admitted.

"Can I carry something for you?" Tony asked, taking refuge in commonplace courtesies. Annie smiled and handed him the cat basket just as Loki pulled the glamour from it. Tony let out another startled noise when a small paw reached through the mesh door to poke at him, and then shook his head. "I really need to stop doing that. Hi, guys," he addressed the kittens, who immediately began a litany of the many wrongs done to them. 

"They are not normally so noisy," Loki said quickly. "It is only that they are not fond of this mode of transport."

"Can't say I blame them," Tony shrugged. "Okay, car's this way. Everyone else is here already, we pretty much all travelled together, except Thor came from New Mexico with Jane. You guys must be hungry and tired, are you? You know I'd have sent the plane for you."

"We know, and it's a kind thought," George replied with a smile. "But the train was actually pretty good fun, all of us together." Loki joined in the general nods: cramped and stiff though they were by the end, it had still been enjoyable, to go on the journey together. 

And besides, Tony was always extremely generous to them, as well as to his other friends, and they were loath to take further advantage of his kindness. They were certainly under no illusions their host would permit them to contribute much to the cost of food or drink for the celebrations, and so arranging their own travel seemed the least they could do. Besides, it must be admitted that Annie, who was still getting used to being visible to humans, had greatly enjoyed handing over her ticket and choosing a seat like any live person.

"Did you check any luggage?" Tony asked, looking curiously at the single rather small bag Loki carried.

"No," Loki said with a smile. 

"How about you?" Tony asked George, who was struggling with a large package wrapped in brown paper. It was a little too large for his arms to accommodate. "Need a hand with that?"

"No, thanks," George replied. "It's more awkward than heavy." Loki raised his eyebrows, and George conceded, "Well, all right, it's actually pretty heavy, too, but Mitchell can help me." He cast a glare at the empty-handed Mitchell, who smirked at him.

"What is it?" Tony asked curiously. 

"Secrets," George replied briefly. Tony waggled his eyebrows, and George said firmly, "I'm not telling you whose name JARVIS gave me. You can find out on Christmas morning when... the person... opens it."

"Fair enough," Tony agreed amiably, and then they were at his Range Rover. Tony opened the tailgate so that George could stow his parcel and Loki the bag. He still looked concerned that this was all the luggage they had-- except for the cat basket, which Loki took, and held on his lap in the back seat. Annie sat between Loki and George, and Mitchell in the front with Scamp at his feet. 

The matter of presents had involved a certain amount of negotiation, which had taken place-- as so many of their conversations seemed to these days-- over Skype. Everyone agreed to the idea of drawing names, to determine one person to whom they would give a gift and so ensure that everyone received something. Steve had been adamant on the matter of limits to spending on that gift.

"Look, I know some of us are probably going to want to give gifts to people aside from the one whose name we draw, and that's fine, but it only seems fair to put a limit on the amount for this one."

"Is this to keep me from showing off?" Tony had asked, nearly offhandedly. 

"No!" Steve protested, obviously aware the offhandedness was not entirely sincere. 

"Maybe," said Natasha, whose honesty could be ruthless. 

"I don’t think Tony should have to give anybody a present," Coulson spoke up. 

"I agree," Loki said at once. "He is hosting us, after all, and has planned everything-- surely that is enough of a contribution to the festivities?"

"Seems fair to me," agreed Lt. Col. Rhodes.

Tony's expression had been priceless. "Wait, no, but-- " he spluttered, looking horrified. "But I _want_ to-- "

"I think we should vote," Bruce announced. "We can use the text function. All in favour of letting Tony off giving a gift, type _aye._ You'll still _get_ one," he added, as though that was what was bothering Tony. 

"But that's not-- " Tony began, and was ignored.

"Motion carried," Coulson announced after a moment. Tony opened his mouth, closed it helplessly-- and from the New Mexico link, Thor and Jane both lost their composure, closely followed by Clint. Loki found himself so glad the joke was over that he was nearly unable to laugh, although on the sofa beside him (unseen by Tony) Mitchell was bent nearly double, hiccupping gently to himself. 

Tony looked stunned for a moment, slowly realized what had just happened, and then called them all a number of extremely profane names. Loki would have expected Tony to have a greater variety at his disposal, but what he lacked in creativity he made up in persistence and fervor. 

The joke over, the group then negotiated an absolute maximum per-gift cost (including applicable taxes, wrapping, and any shipping for online purchases) of fifty American dollars, which Coulson announced was-- according to that day's exchange rates-- equivalent to a little over thirty British pounds. Each of them was to log into a specially-created Web site on the Stark Industries server, to identify themselves and receive (from JARVIS) the name of the recipient for whom they would provide a gift. 

They also agreed that Mrs. Coulson was to be included in the activity, although Coulson warned that this might result in someone receiving knitted items as their gift. No one seemed bothered by the possibility-- Loki, with visions of Mrs. Weasley in mind, wondered whether this might encompass a jumper with one's first initial knitted into it. 

He had spent the rest of the evening, after the call, entertaining his household by casting illusions of each member of the holiday party so garbed. The colours had increased in vibrancy until they reached a sort of crescendo in which Tony appeared to them in a jumper, hat, and mittens that exactly depicted the top half of his Iron Man suit. At that point Loki was laughing too hard to control his spells, and the game had ended. 

They had all visited the lodge before, the previous summer. Annie, George, and Mitchell had in fact come by train and had been driven there, following this exact route. They had at the time been too worried to pay much attention to the scenery. Loki, for his part, had arrived with Tony and Thor, still rather bewildered after a protracted and extremely unpleasant stint in the custody of beings intent on using him to distract the Avengers, and so remembered very little of the stay, or of the brief return visit paid a few days later. 

On this, the first day of winter, it was dark by teatime, and so there was little to see as they drove. They were compensated for this by their first sight of their destination. Tony's Scottish house was an old stone hunting lodge, a sprawling three-storey edifice with gables and many-paned windows that had, at the moment, light spilling out of most of them, casting a warm glow across the snow as Tony drove toward the house. 

"We'll do some decorating tomorrow," Tony promised. "Along with starting the cooking, so you can pick whatever jobs you want, and maybe swap them out partway through the day." Tony shook his head. "Steve tells me that doing everything yourself is most of the fun. Apparently, people were crazy in the Forties."

"It was pleasurable to cook dinner together at Thanksgiving," Loki said, remembering the visit he and Annie had paid to the Avengers for that holiday some weeks before. "It was never the custom in Asgard, for the royal family to assist in decorating the palace for the Yule celebrations-- " Loki had a sudden mental picture of his mother the queen, knitting gifts like Mrs. Weasley, and nearly burst out laughing-- "but it might have been nice if it had been so."

"Yeah, well, Steve's also very big on the satisfaction of doing things yourself. I'm more into the satisfaction of building a robot that can do the things for me-- which I guess is almost like doing them myself-- but hey, if it makes him happy I'll go along with it. George, about Hanukkah. Are there observances that are... okay for us to do, too?" Tony looked suddenly uncertain, the way he did when he suddenly realized he might have overstepped himself and possibly offended someone he had no desire to hurt. "I mean," he fumbled on, "that wouldn't be, you know, disrespectful or-- " Tony glanced sideways at Mitchell. 

"Dangerous?" Mitchell asked tolerantly. 

George patted Mitchell's shoulder and replied, "I've been thinking about that, actually. I think we had better skip the ceremonial candles, because those really do have religious significance, and there's no telling whether they'd affect Mitchell in spite of the fact he can handle my pendant. But I'm pretty sure the traditional foods fried in oil would be all right, and the dreidel game, if we wanted to play that."

"Wait, wait, foods fried in oil?" Tony asked. "I knew about latkes, but there are others?" 

"The point is the oil," George explained. "Hanukkah commemorates the miracle of the oil that gave light for eight nights when it should only have lasted one. Cooking food in oil celebrates that." 

"I have the feeling Clint is going to consider this the best holiday _ever_ ," Tony remarked, apparently forgetting his earlier efforts to be respectful. "Do you mean to say we could celebrate Hanukkah with _fried chicken and French fries_ if we wanted to?"

"I suppose so, if there's such a thing as kosher fried chicken," George said, not sounding quite sure of his answer. "Not that my family was ever all that conscientious about keeping kosher, come to think of it." George thought about it. "Actually, there's a special kind of doughnut that's pretty traditional, too."

"Awesome," Tony murmured. "It's the perfect Coulson holiday, too." 

"Anyway, I brought a dreidel. And a bag of almonds to use for wagers," George said. "And my mother's recipe for latkes, if you think everyone would want some."

"Dying to try them," Tony assured him. "Absolutely."

They climbed out of the car. Mitchell took the cat-basket, Loki their one bag and George the paper-wrapped box, and they made their way up the steps to the big front door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** In which Loki gets in touch with his inner Mary Poppins (and also Hermione Granger-- thank you to readers who reminded me of that!), and Clint is, in his way, sentimental. 
> 
> Also, in reviewing previous stories I'm pretty sure Loki and JARVIS have only met once-- I ask your indulgence if it turns out I'm wrong about that!
> 
> **Warnings:** For approaching fruitcake, and also a little dubious morality.

Loki and Annie had previous experience of the Avengers gathered together for a holiday, but even so the level of sound that greeted them as they opened the door was nearly overwhelming. Considering the whole group was not even present-- Thor, for one, was missing-- it was an impressive burst of noise. George and Mitchell were even more taken aback-- and the initial greeting was as nothing compared to what happened when the other guests saw Annie.

Pepper, always so cool and polished, actually let out a little shriek as she started forward. It was not the same yelp of shock Tony had uttered-- indeed, to Loki, it sounded rather like a more grownup version of the sound emitted by the girls at his school, after a period of separation from their friends. 

Jane let out a similar noise, and all three women greeted one another with pleasure and excitement.

"Thor told us you-- "

"This is wonderful, how did-- "

"I couldn't believe it when-- "

Loki, occupied though he was with greeting the others, found his heart warmed by the delighted welcome Annie was receiving. He still edged away from the trio, though, herding Mitchell and the cat basket with him in an effort to protect the kittens' hearing. 

"Girls," said Clint, with a sideways little smirk at Natasha. Her look in return suggested that if he valued his entrails, the remark would not be repeated. 

Steve turned to Loki, George, and Mitchell with the air of a peacekeeper. "Do you need help bringing anything in from the car?"

"No, thank you," Loki smiled, indicating the single rather small bag he carried. "We have everything we need here."

Steve blinked, looking as puzzled as Tony had. "Really?"

"Really," Loki said. The kittens wailed, and Loki said, "They will never forgive me if I leave them in this basket much longer. May we-- ?"

Tony started. "Oh, right, sure. You want to settle them in your room? You and Annie are up that stairwell, at the end of the hall. George and Mitchell, yours are at the other end-- "

"Right near me," Bruce said. "I can show you."

"Thank you," George said, and turned to Loki. "I suppose we should take our stuff from you now, should we?"

"Very well," Loki agreed, with the air of making a concession. He set down the bag he was carrying-- a Gladstone type, made of patterned oriental carpet-- and unsnapped the clasp at the top. Then he knelt and reached in. His arm disappeared into the bag to the shoulder-- which got everyone's attention-- and he drew it out dragging a duffle bag considerably larger than the carpet-bag itself. "Really, George," he complained, as he struggled to pull the one out of the mouth of the other, "I do not see why you need such a large bag. We will only be here for a week."

"I need my shaving things, and I like my own robe and slippers," George replied with dignity. 

"How about me?" Mitchell prompted. 

"One moment," Loki replied, diving back in. He came out with a large bag of cat food, put it back, then withdrew some wrapped presents, put them back, and finally pulled out a tall brass floor lamp.

"Now you're just showing off, Mary Poppins," Tony announced. 

Loki grinned, put the lamp back, and finally emerged with Mitchell's backpack. 

"Thanks," said Mitchell. 

"I take it the bag is enchanted?" Steve stated the obvious. 

"It seemed more convenient than carrying a great many bags among ourselves," Loki explained, pulling out the presents again, then a container of litter for the kittens, a pullover, and a blue bathrobe. He carefully re-folded the bathrobe and the pullover, stowed the items back inside the carpet-bag, and closed it. 

"And you just _happened_ to have an old-fashioned carpet-bag handy, to put the spell on?" Steve persisted. 

Loki wriggled a little as he admitted, "I may have gone looking for the carpet-bag. A backpack would have had less… style." He smiled. "And though I borrowed the idea from Hermione Granger, I confess the execution does in fact owe a great deal to Mary Poppins."

Tony suddenly looked confused. "Okay, then, so why did George end up carrying that big parcel?"

"I asked the same question," George complained.

Loki lifted an eyebrow and looked aggravatingly innocent. "Surely you do not think a small bag such as this is able to hold a limitless number of items? Really, Tony."

Tony, after one long sour look, apparently decided he was not up for an argument about magical relativity with a sorcerer. Instead, he picked up the cat basket and gestured to Loki to follow him. Bruce and Steve took the other two away to a different staircase. Annie had by this time been carried off by Pepper and Jane-- Natasha trailing along with Scamp, as if undecided about whether she wished to claim membership in their tribe-- so Loki took the carpet-bag and followed Tony up two flights of stairs. Clint accompanied them, apparently hoping for further luggage-related magical tricks. 

Or possibly not, because as they climbed the staircase from the first landing, he said, 

"So. Annie. Thor told us about her being visible now, but I didn't catch exactly why? Something about dealing with her unfinished business?"

"Yes," Loki said, uncertain how much he could relate without infringing upon Annie's right to tell her own story. 

However, it quickly became apparent that Thor had already exercised his own right to tell his friends what he felt they should know:

"Something about her ex, right?" Clint persisted. "I mean, I guess he was her ex. Thor said she told him off?" Loki nodded. Clint shook his head. "Man, if she'd just mentioned at Thanksgiving she was having a problem with him, Tash or I could have taken care of it for her. She just had to say."

Loki, momentarily speechless, looked at Clint's apparently sincere expression, and then cast a questioning glance at Tony, who also seemed unconcerned. 

"Is this a test?" he blurted. 

"No," Tony said kindly. 

"Why would it be?" Clint asked. 

"I do not know," Loki admitted. "And, come to think of it, Thor's friend Hogun the Grim made a similar offer. It is just… " Loki spluttered to a stop, realizing there was no polite way to express his surprise that _Thor_ had friends who were perfectly willing to do things _Loki's_ friends-- to say nothing of Loki himself-- had balked at. He meant no disrespect to either group, of course, it was just rather strange.

Clint looked amused. 

"Is the problem that I'm not supposed to talk like this because I'm a _good guy?"_ he asked, cutting directly to the heart of Loki's conflict. "Tash and me, we're not _good guys_. We're spies. We do the stuff Steve-- and Bruce and Tony-- "

"Hey," protested Tony. 

"-- won't," Clint completed the thought. "Or Annie, obviously."

"Oh. Um," Loki faltered, hoping this was the last time any of his brother's comrades expressed friendship for his household in this particular manner. "Thank you," he finally said, inadequately. Then rallied enough to add, "Although... we are convinced the reason Annie _is_ now visible is because she dealt with Owen for herself. So it really is for the best that she did not ask for your... assistance."

Clint considered, and then shrugged. "Fair enough. But, you know, as long as she's done with him, if you ever need someone to take out the trash-- "

"We will surely ask your aid," Loki assured him. There seemed little point in telling Clint that Hogun had already made _that_ offer, too, on Loki's most recent visit to Asgard-- Thor had not been present at that interview, either, come to think of it-- or in asking why in the Nine Realms either of them presumed that, if there was a murder to be committed, Loki was not qualified to do it himself. 

Not, he assured himself hastily, that he _would._

It appeared that Clint had said all he wished to, so he excused himself and went back downstairs. As they watched him go, Tony shook his head. 

"I'm always surprised by how peculiarly sentimental Clint can be. In, you know, a very disturbing Clintish way. This is your room, here on the corner." He opened a door and flicked on the light as he led the way inside. "Bathroom's over there."

"Thank you," Loki said, looking around. Tony set down the cat basket and said, 

"I'm going to check that George and Mitchell are getting settled all right-- come on down when you're ready. And when you think the cats have their bearings, feel free to let them wander, okay?" He disappeared before Loki could repeat his thanks. 

Loki carried the cat-basket and the carpet-bag into the bathroom, rummaged around until he found the litter box (carefully wrapped in plastic), the container of litter, the food and dishes, and a scratching post. He arranged everything appropriately, then released the kittens, who came tiptoeing out, as if wary of danger, and then began to explore. 

The bathroom was far larger than his bedchamber at home, but then again, the bathroom at home was also larger than his bedchamber. Indeed, this room was larger than the lounge and the entry hall at home put together, with a huge bathtub and separate shower, in addition to other gleaming fixtures. There was also a large oak cabinet containing numerous fluffy towels, various toiletries, extra lavatory paper and the like. Loki rearranged a shelf to make room for the bag of cat food and closed the door. 

By the time he turned around, Elizabeth and Philip had ventured into the bedroom, tails up alertly in case of danger. Loki picked up his bag and followed.

The bedroom was large, in proportion to its bath, with windows in two walls as befit a corner room. One of the windows had a deep seat built into it, so one could sit and look out over the grounds. Despite the room's size, there was an air of coziness caused by the dormer effect of the top storey. Still, there was plenty of room for fixtures: Loki had not seen a bed so large since he left Asgard. The other furnishings included laden bookshelves, a handsome chest of drawers, and a wardrobe that might have concealed a passage to Narnia. Opening it to check, Loki found the usual drawers and some covered hangers awaiting his own clothing. There was, as well, a green-and-gray plaid bathrobe, woven of soft warm wool, hanging there in case it should be needed. 

Loki paused for a moment, unconsciously stroking the robe, feeling sure there was a memory connected to the article but unable to retrieve it. He was distracted from his effort by the sound of something falling over, and turned to see Philip and Elizabeth fleeing from the tumbled irons by the fireplace. 

"Behave yourselves," he whispered, scooping them up. They snuggled, purring, into his chest, which made it rather difficult to reprove them. "You surely do not wish to make Tony regret inviting us. Nor do I want to worry every minute about what you might be getting up to."

"If you wish, sir, I can watch them for you," a disembodied and oddly familiar voice suddenly suggested. Loki was far too old a hand to visibly express surprise-- he would never say so to Tony, but in any unfamiliar environment he was as prepared for potential threats as the kittens, to say nothing of more experienced in dealing with them-- but he did look up in a calculated show of interest.

"Hello?" he said, in a carefully neutral voice. 

"I beg your pardon," said the voice, "we have not been introduced. I am JARVIS, an artificial intelligence system. I monitor the house in Malibu, and also assist Mr. Stark with the Iron Man suit. He recently installed me in all of his residences. In reviewing my records, I perceive that you and I have only encountered each other once before, since I was not called upon the last time you visited the Tower, and had not been installed there on the previous occasion you were present. Nor was I active in the country house in New York until this week. Also, I see from my records that, when we encountered one another in Malibu, I seem to have frightened you rather badly. I apologize for that."

Loki, who now recognized the voice from their invitation, could think of only one occasion he had visited Tony's house in Malibu, and he remembered practically nothing about it. Still, based on others' descriptions of the circumstances, he found it easy to believe he would have been afraid of even a helpful voice in the walls. 

"No apologies are necessary," he said, "and I regret in my turn anything I might have done to trouble you at that time."

"Would you care for me to monitor your pets for you, sir?" JARVIS returned to his (surely his?) original offer. 

"I am sure you have more pressing responsibilities-- " Loki began. 

"In fact, I do not," JARVIS replied. "This house is best equipped to be run by humans, not a system such as myself. I am installed in what is more or less an observational capacity."

Loki deposited the now-squirming kittens on the bed, where they immediately began to wrestle. He looked in the direction from which the voice was coming, and started to ask a question: "Then why would Tony-- ?" And stopped himself, as the truth hit him. "Tony installed you here because you are also his friend and he wants you in attendance, is that not so?"

"I'm sure I could not say," said JARVIS composedly.

Loki, who as a child had had considerable experience with friends who existed only in his imagination, could. He decided there was no need to press the issue.

"I would be very grateful if you could keep watch over these little rascals for me," he said. "They are generally not too troublesome, but have been known to fall prey to curiosity, in what I am told is the manner of their kind."

"Very well, sir," said JARVIS. "Also, Mr. Stark wishes for me to inform you that the evening meal is about to be served, and has asked me to direct you to the dining room."

"Thank you," Loki replied, retrieved a few catnip toys from the carpet-bag before stowing it away in the wardrobe, tossed them to the kittens, and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** The Wool-White, Bell-Tongued Ball of Holidays begins!
> 
> **Warnings:** For impending fruitcake.

By the time Loki made his way downstairs, everyone else had already gathered in the dining room. The formality of the chamber was at odds with the cheerful confusion of places being set and serving dishes carried from the kitchen, but the long dining table was obviously the only place to accommodate such a large group for the meal. 

Loki, finding himself in the way and solving the problem by stepping in to help, had taken a dish of roasted vegetables out of the hands of a woman before recognizing her as Agent Maria Hill. 

"Hi, Loki," said the agent. "Nice to see you under... less exciting circumstances." Loki smiled in agreement. Technically, the last time he had seen Hill was at the celebration in Asgard after Hydra and the Dire Wraiths were defeated, but he assumed she was speaking of the chaotic battle in New York that had been the cause for the celebration. 

He had just set down the vegetables when Thor appeared, bearing a basket of bread rolls. 

"Brother!" he exclaimed. Steve quickly relieved him of the bread, which was a good thing because Thor seemed to have completely forgotten he was holding it. The brothers embraced as Rhodey and Bruce edged past them bearing plates and cutlery. "I did not mean to miss your arrival. Rhodey was showing me how to make wreaths out of boughs of evergreen, which we will decorate and hang tomorrow. I hope you have brought your kittens? Are you settled in your room?"

"I have not yet unpacked completely," Loki said, when he was finally able to insert a word. "Philip and Elizabeth are in the bedroom Annie and I will be occupying, and JARVIS has kindly offered to inform me if they do anything too outrageous. We missed you on our train journey, although you might have found the carriage rather cramped." 

"Excuse me," said Agent Coulson, edging past them to put another serving dish on the table. "Hi, Loki. I don't believe you've met my mother, Gladys Coulson." 

"I have not," Loki said, turning in pleasure to greet the woman at the agent's side. 

She did not look at all the way Loki had expected. He had leisure to think that, before realizing that _what he had expected_ was something in the nature of Neville Longbottom's method of dealing with a boggart. He had, in fact, been cherishing an unacknowledged and ridiculous vision of Mrs. Coulson looking like Agent Coulson dressed up in women's clothing, in the manner of Professor Snape in the garb of Neville's grandmother. 

Mrs. Coulson turned out to be an attractive yet somehow inconspicuous elderly woman with shining silvery-white hair. She smiled at Loki with what he could only describe as an air of competent friendliness, and he was reminded of a nursery teacher greeting a new pupil.

Loki found himself revising his original impression: Mrs. Coulson did not look like Coulson in women's clothing, but once you looked past the merely physical, the resemblance was astonishing. 

"It's very nice to meet you," said Mrs. Coulson, in a quiet, even tone. "Phil has told me so much about you." Her tone was still perfectly friendly, but Loki still caught himself casting a hasty glance at Agent Coulson, who rolled his eyes a little and murmured, 

"Nothing terrible." 

"That is a relief," Loki said, as if he was joking. 

"Mrs. Coulson has offered to let me help her prepare our Christmas Eve feast," Thor spoke up, managing to sound as though he was not rescuing his little brother from an awkward moment. "Perhaps you would also care to join us? I believe Clint has also offered-- ?"

"Yeah," Clint said, rather sheepishly. "There's going to be a lot of chopping, so..."

"When Phil's father and I were first married, one of our neighbours taught me how to make a Lake St. John tourtiere," Mrs. Coulson explained. "It's a kind of meat-and-potato pie, and any time we planned to have a big group at Christmas I used to make it."

"I'd say this qualifies as a big group," Fury said, appearing at Mrs. Coulson's elbow with a glass of wine. She accepted it, and Fury looked around with an air of command. "Everyone, take a seat." It was not a suggestion. Loki obediently looked for an empty place. 

"For the last meal we won't be responsible for this week," Tony spoke up, holding a chair for Coulson's mother to the left of Fury's place. To Loki and his friends, he explained, "The staff made tonight's-- what would you call it? Dinner? Tea? Whatever-- before they all went on vacation and left us here to fend for ourselves. Probably the last edible meal we'll have this week. And it's all on your head, Steve."

Steve smiled. "Then we should make the most of it, shouldn't we?"

"And after... whatever this meal is... we can map out our plans for the week," Tony added, with a return of enthusiasm. Loki suspected they were all going to need a holiday to recover from this holiday, but he found Tony's excitement both infectious and endearing. 

"I hope you have highlighter pens," Annie called from across the table. "You can't make a good plan without highlighter pens." Loki laughed as he walked around to join her. Clint took the chair at Mrs. Coulson's left, and Annie led Loki to the far end of the table on the opposite side. "Do you have any idea how much Mrs. Coulson knows about us?" she asked Loki in an undertone, smiling at him as though engaged in ordinary social conversation. 

"None whatsoever," Loki admitted. "I find myself thinking of her as an agent, herself, but I realize that makes no sense."

"I should probably be careful where I sit at meals, so she doesn't start to wonder why I'm not eating anything," Annie said. "Just until we're sure. And I hope she's not the kind of mother who wants to take pictures of everyone."

"If that is the case, Mitchell may also need to be aware of his activities," Loki agreed. 

"On the other hand," Annie said wistfully, "it's nice to have _someone's_ mother around for the holidays." 

"It is," Loki agreed, watching Clint and Bruce helping Mrs. Coulson to rice pilaf and vegetables. "Were you accustomed to assisting your mother with the preparations?"

Annie nodded. "Especially after Becky left home. Until... well, Bristol." _Until Owen,_ she meant. Until her life was taken over by someone with no regard for her holiday traditions, or her family loyalties, or any of her wishes.

Loki picked up the wineglass that had been set at his place and raised it to her. "Well, it is high time you had some new traditions, then."

Annie smiled and lifted her own wineglass, although of course she did not drink from it. "That's a wonderful idea."

~oOo~

After the meal, Loki offered to look after the washing-up-- by which he meant, "do it by magic, if someone would engage Mrs. Coulson in some other activity in the meantime so she does not catch me." 

"Oh, we won't leave you stuck like that," Steve said firmly.

"And by _we,_ I assume you mean me, too?" Tony spoke up, in a voice too elaborately resigned to be a genuine complaint. Steve smiled brightly at him as Pepper invited the female guests to withdraw, in a manner Loki recognized from the "period dramas" Annie liked to watch on the television. 

"That's a little old-fashioned," Rhodey remarked as he watched them go. 

" _That's_ the girls not getting stuck with the dish-washing," Bruce reminded him. 

"Good point," said Fury, drained his wineglass, and got up to follow. "You all can bring your dishpan hands to join us later," he said over his shoulder.

"This is all part of the joy of doing things for ourselves, I take it," Tony said. 

"But using magic to perform such tasks is doing them for myself," Loki pointed out, although he had little expectation of Steve relenting, and also was not entirely sure Tony really wished to be rescued. 

"And that would deprive the rest of us of the chance to do the same," Steve said cheerfully. 

"Of course," Clint said, with an expression on his face that left little doubt he would joyfully accept liberation. 

"Cheer up," Tony told him. "I'm pretty sure one of the appliances in the kitchen is a dishwasher. Maybe more than one, I can't remember." 

"A _dishwasher?"_ asked Loki. "What is a _dishwasher?"_

Everyone stared at him. 

"You know," Rhodey said, although if he did he would not have been asking. "A machine that washes the dishes for you. I take it you don't have them in Asgard."

"No. In the palace, dishes are washed by the more junior of the servants. And in Bristol," Loki added, to head off any pointed remarks about the uselessness of royalty, "they are washed by us. Are you telling me there is a kind of _machine_ that can do this?"

"We don't have one," George explained to the others. "Come to think of it, I suppose there's no reason for Loki to have ever heard of them."

"You'd think he'd have heard me complaining about our not having one by now," Mitchell said. 

"Mitchell, _none_ of us listens to you complaining about the washing-up anymore," George replied. 

"Well, how is using such a machine different from me employing magic?" Loki demanded. 

Everyone looked at Steve. Steve looked at everyone. 

"I think he's got you there," Mitchell snickered. 

Steve laughed. "I think he does," he admitted. 

~oOo~

When the washing-up was finished (the entire group had remained in the kitchen with Loki, who had therefore made perhaps a little more of flying plates and self-propelling scrubbers than strictly necessary), everyone gathered in the large room with the couches and the television. There were drinks. Loki sat on the floor in front of Annie's place on the longer of the couches, and Scamp crawled into his lap, looking rather as though her feelings were wounded. 

"I didn't think I should let her up on Tony's furniture," Annie explained to Loki in an undertone. 

"I doubt very much that it would matter to Tony, even if it mattered," Loki replied, referring both to Tony's easygoing ways and to Scamp's status as a ghost. 

"Well, in front of Mrs. Coulson-- " Annie said quietly, and let the remark trail away. Loki nodded his agreement with the sentiment. He, too, had no wish to present the image of a thoughtless guest taking advantage of Tony's good nature. "We've _got_ to ask Coulson exactly what he's told his mother about us," she added, just as Tony and Steve came in, carrying a large flip-chart between them.

"Oh, for the love of _God,_ Tony," Agent Hill spoke for everyone, drowning out a muttered oath from Fury. 

"Hey, Annie asked for highlighter markers, so Annie's getting highlighter markers," Tony replied unrepentantly. Annie put a hand on her heart in a gesture of gratitude, and Tony grinned at her before going on, "I promise, this is the last time we'll be doing anything like this. But we've got a lot to cover in the next few days and we don't want to miss anything."

"Of course not," Rhodey murmured. 

Tony quickly used a black marker to draw a grid on the top piece of paper, labeling each of the boxes with a date from the twenty-first-- the current date-- to the twenty-eighth. He switched to a blue marker to scribble _Travel_ in the first and last boxes, then picked up a red marker and tossed a green one to Steve.

"Okay," he said expansively, "here's the plan as Steve, Pepper and I see it." Pepper, beside Annie, did her best to look as though she had contributed to the plan, as opposed to simply serving as a sounding-board for all Tony's ideas. Steve did not even manage that. Tony did not seem to care. Instead, he made quick X's on several squares in the grid. "Tomorrow is kind of a prep day, with the actual celebrations beginning on the day after, with Festivus."

"Do we yet know what Festivus _is?"_ Loki whispered to Annie, who shook her head. They returned their attention to Tony, who was speaking as he wrote in the squares. 

"After Festivus, we have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Sorry, I didn't mean to give that one more time, it just sort of… got away from me. The day after Christmas is-- "

"Boxing Day," Loki called helpfully. 

"Kwanzaa," Tony corrected. 

"I am fairly sure it is Boxing Day," Loki argued. 

"It's Kwanzaa," announced Fury, with a definite hint of threat in his voice. 

"Of course. Kwanzaa," agreed Loki, who was not stupid. 

"It can be both," George offered. Fury gave him a look, and George wilted. "Or not."

Tony went on blithely, "And this year, the final day of Hanukkah falls on the twenty-seventh."

"That worked out well," Jane remarked, from the armchair she was sharing with Thor, who gave every sign of thinking all sorts of things were working out well. 

"It did, didn't it?" Tony agreed. "Now-- " he gestured at Steve, who stepped forward and briskly drew a cone-like tree in the space representing the next day. "Okay. Tomorrow, we'll do some decorating. Find a Christmas tree-- that okay with everyone?" he asked, carefully not looking at Mitchell. 

"Pagan-derived symbol," Steve murmured. "I'm sure it'll be fine." He cut his eyes toward Mitchell, who nodded slightly. Really, Loki thought, they _must_ ask Coulson what he had told his mother about Loki's friends.

"Also, Rhodey and Thor started making wreaths today, so they might want a hand finishing those. And Pepper-- ?"

"Will be making popcorn and cranberry strings, and drying citrus slices to decorate the tree," Pepper announced. "Which I have to admit I haven't done since I was a little girl, so I'd appreciate all the help I can get." 

"And there are boxes of decorations in storage upstairs somewhere," Tony added. "Dad used to bring us here for Christmas sometimes, and he always had the place all... Anyway, we can have a look through those and decide if there's anything there we'd like to use. How about we get together again tomorrow, after breakfast, and everyone can say what they want to do?"

"Sounds fair," Coulson said, and Agents Hill and Fury nodded. Tony looked rather startled by the agreement, but rallied quickly. 

"Great." He looked around with a big smile. "The Wool-White, Bell-Tongued Ball of Holidays is officially underway."

"I'll drink to that," said Clint.

And everybody did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** In which we learn that Aesir (and shapeshifted Aesir) really are different from humans. And probably werewolves and vampires, too.
> 
> Incidentally, a reader on FF.net asked whether s/he was the only one who imagined Betty White in the role of Coulson's mother. NOT ANYMORE, YOU'RE NOT!
> 
> **Warnings:** Fruitcake. Well, I did warn you.

When Loki woke the next morning, Elizabeth was purring in his ear, Philip was draped across his chest, and Annie was on the other side of the room, sitting in the window seat with Scamp snuggled against her. Both were looking over the grounds toward the forest.

"Good morning, Annie," Loki yawned, as he sat up. Elizabeth squeaked as Philip rolled onto the pillow next to her, and both kittens stretched lazily, their back toes curling. Loki followed suit, except for the toes, then asked, "Did you sleep at all?"

Annie looked over with a smile. "Little bit," she replied. "And then I read for a while. I'm surprised the light didn't wake you. I've just been looking out at the snow. It's much deeper than it is at home."

Loki pushed back the covers and crossed the room to look. "Oh, my," he said, trying not to sound dismayed at the sight of complete snow cover on the grounds, and significant banks lining the driveway to the storage buildings behind the house.

Annie shifted over to let Loki sit beside her. "It's pretty, isn't it?" 

"It is," he agreed, trying very hard to sound enthusiastic. Annie took his hand and squeezed it. 

"Nobody's going to force you to play in the snow if you don't want to," she assured him. 

Loki found himself laughing reluctantly. "And certainly nobody is going to abandon me in it, no matter how much I annoy them." Annie punched him gently in the arm, then leaned into his shoulder. Loki brushed his lips against her hair and went on, "Also... I think it matters very much to Tony, that we all participate and have a good time. Did you not think so?"

"I did," Annie agreed. "And speaking of participating, I wonder if anyone else is downstairs yet?"

It occurred to Loki that there was a convenient way to find out. "Good morning, JARVIS," he called politely. 

"Good morning, sir," replied the disembodied voice, with equal courtesy. The previous night, when he and Annie came to bed, JARVIS had delivered a detailed report on the activities of Philip and Elizabeth (they had wrestled, napped, climbed on the bookshelves, napped, chased each other around the bedroom, napped-- Loki had never asked himself whether an artificial intelligence could become bored, but it was possible he now had his answer) and then, to Loki's carefully concealed relief, had announced he would be inactive for the night but that if Loki or Annie called upon him, he would certainly respond.

Loki had forborne to remark on the resemblance this gave JARVIS to… certain Guardians of the Realm Eternal. Instead, he had thanked the AI for supervising the kittens, and said goodnight. 

Now he asked, "Is anyone else stirring?"

"No, sir," JARVIS replied. "Not even a mouse, sir." 

It was perhaps half an hour later, after Loki had showered, when Loki and Annie ventured downstairs. JARVIS assured them that others were beginning to gather, and also that he did not object to once again monitoring the activities of Philip and Elizabeth. The two were curled together in the middle of the counterpane when Annie, Scamp, and Loki left the room and started downstairs. 

Loki, having stopped to deal with the litter box, took a moment to scout for the household rubbish bins, which he found located in a sort of enclosed porch on the back of the house. He and Annie then found their way back to the kitchen, where Loki washed his hands at the sink and joined the others in breakfast preparations. 

At the moment, such preparations consisted entirely of George boiling water for oatmeal, while Steve set up a coffee-maker that could have served a regiment. Tony, Bruce, and Clint were watching Steve with an intensity that would have seriously unnerved a lesser man. Annie sidled past them, in search of tea things. 

"Morning, Annie, Loki," Tony greeted them, as Steve handed over his first cup. "Oatmeal all right with you?" 

"Certainly," Loki replied, smiling at George. He normally started his day with cold cereal, but if outdoor activities were proposed something warm seemed a better plan. 

"Thanks, Steve," said Tony. "And thank you, George. JARVIS, is everyone else up now?"

"I believe so, sir," replied the AI. "Agent Coulson and his mother are on their way to join you, as are Agent Fury and Lt. Col. Rhodes. Shall I inform you of the others' movements?"

"No, that's fine, just make sure anyone who seems lost gets directions."

"Of course, sir."

A moment later Agent Coulson-- practically unrecognizable in jeans and a pullover-- entered with his mother, who was carrying a round tin cake container. Agent Coulson's expression of unflappable calm looked ever so slightly strained, but Mrs. Coulson seemed cheerfully determined. 

"Good morning, Mrs. Coulson," Tony greeted her, and Pepper, having found a kettle for Annie, turned with a smile. 

"Can I get anything for you?" she asked. 

"If you could let me have some small plates and a cake knife, please," replied Coulson's mother.

As Mrs. Coulson drew nearer, Loki could smell a strong odor of spirits-- not the ghostly kind, the sort one drank. He could not at first understand where it was coming from, actually wondered, for a wild moment, whether Mrs. Coulson might herself be a magical creature-- which would frankly explain a great deal about her son-- before he recollected that he had smelled no such aroma upon first acquaintance with her last night.

It seemed to be coming from the cake tin. Loki looked at the tin with interest, then noticed everyone else was also looking at it, and their expressions were a fascinating study for one so adept in lies as Loki. Aside from George, every one of his fellow guests wore a social smile, such as Loki's mother did when trapped by some visiting dignitary whose breath smelled foul, or whose conversation never strayed from battles and killing. Every one of these smiles was brightly persuasive, and every one of them lied and lied again, concealing every reaction from anxiety to revulsion. George simply looked politely resigned. 

Loki began to feel quite anxious about what might be contained within the cake tin.

Mrs. Coulson placed it on the table next to the plates and knife, and removed the lid.

"Would anyone care for some fruitcake?" she asked. "It's my grandmother's recipe."

Loki blinked, then edged forward. Sure enough, inside the tin was a harmless-looking dark brown disc, diffusing a strong smell of spirits but apparently innocuous. He must have looked as confused as he felt, because Tony suddenly spoke up: 

"I think Loki would like some, Mrs. Coulson." 

Loki blinked, glanced around and saw everyone looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, while Tony smothered a grin. 

Perhaps ironically for the so-called God of Mischief, Loki had in the past not much enjoyed being teased. He was well aware that, since he was quite capable of retaliating in kind, this was hypocritical of him, but his reaction had often been more in the nature of defensive lashing out than teasing in return. The fact he had generally been outnumbered five to one had probably also been a factor in his behaviour. 

Despite the fact the Avengers really were Thor's friends rather than his, Loki had come to find he did not really mind being teased by them, particularly not Tony. For one thing, he did not have the impression they teased in the hope of finally, once and for all, driving him away. For another, of course, he now had friends of his own, to say nothing of his brother, so there was far less sense of being cornered. 

Whatever Tony was trying to make him do was apt to be a little embarrassing, but it would certainly not _hurt_ him-- Tony would never, and besides, surely Agent Coulson's mother was not intent on poisoning her son's colleagues or their guests? That being the case, and especially given the effort Tony was putting into giving everyone pleasure during this visit-- Loki had not forgotten the highlighter markers-- it seemed the least Loki could do was allow Tony the amusement of making him look the fool in some harmless way.

"Yes, please," Loki said, all innocence, as though falling for whatever Tony's trick was. "I would very much like to try your fruitcake."

Mrs. Coulson actually looked a little startled, but then her smile became one of genuine pleasure as she carefully cut him a small slice of the brown cake. The size of the slice intrigued Loki: though she had offered the cake, and seemed delighted by his acceptance, she had yet only given him a very tiny piece. This ran counter to every custom of hospitality Loki had ever heard of, and he could only surmise that, despite having apparently made the cake and brought it for the purpose of sharing, she was for some reason reluctant to compel him to eat very much of it. 

Well, Loki had never pretended to really understand humans. And besides, he was hungry.

He examined the slice with interest: embedded within the cake were green and red candied cherries, currants, what looked like two kinds of raisins, a variety of nuts and what he thought were several kinds of candied fruit peel. It certainly looked appealing enough. The smell of spirits was even stronger now it was cut, but Loki was not much affected by Midgardian alcohol-- really, he was likely to drown before he could consume enough to intoxicate himself-- so that seemed a minor enough issue. 

"Thank you," he said, still wondering what the joke was, picked up the slice of cake in his fingers, bit off the end, and began cautiously to chew. 

He had a moment to notice Steve, Pepper, and Coulson glaring at Tony behind Mrs. Coulson's back, the looks of smothered hilarity on the faces of the other Avengers present (George and Annie mostly looked sympathetic), and Pepper reaching to hand him a mug of coffee. 

And then the flavours uncurled across his tongue: the sweetness of the cherries and raisins, the tart peel, the spices and spirits; alongside which were the textures of moist cake and crunchy nuts-- pecans and almonds, mostly… Loki blinked, swallowed, and took a larger bite that nearly finished the slice. 

He was still chewing when Thor and Jane entered the kitchen, closely followed by Hill, Natasha, Rhodey, and a rumpled Mitchell. 

"Good morning," Thor called cheerfully. Judging by the bright red of his cheeks and Jane's, as well as the cold that still clung to them, the two had begun their morning with a brisk walk in the snow. Jane sidled over to the coffee maker and poured two mugs, her own expression one of good humour as well. Apparently, Jane was also fond of hearty walks in wintry weather. Natasha, too, looked as though she had enjoyed an invigorating run through the snowy outdoors.

Ordinarily, Loki enjoyed outdoor activities himself, but he drew a firm line at those involving large amounts of snow. Born on Jotunheim he might have been, but the circumstances under which he had lost one family and gained another had rather conspired against his developing an ability to really enjoy cold weather. 

None of which he was thinking of as he turned toward his brother, brandishing the plate. 

"Have you tasted this?" he demanded, trying not to spray crumbs as he attempted to speak and swallow at the same time. 

"Tasted what, brother?" Thor asked. 

"This cake. Fruitcake. It is a cake made with fruit, and nuts, and-- Mrs. Coulson, would you allow my brother to try it?" Loki asked. Tony, out of the corner of his eye, appeared to be suppressing a howl of laughter-- and then he looked dumbfounded as Loki went on, "And, if it would not be too greedy of me, might I also ask for another slice, please?"

Mrs. Coulson quite frankly looked as surprised as anyone, which Loki did _not_ understand-- surely, having brought this delectable foodstuff, she expected people to want to eat it?-- but she obligingly cut Thor a slice, and Loki a rather larger one. There was a sense of everyone in the room-- except for Loki, he was fully occupied with his cake-- waiting with bated breath for Thor to taste it. 

Thor looked rather confused by the attention, but the expression on Loki's face as he consumed his second slice of cake seemed to reassure him. He picked up the cake and took a healthy bite. 

A moment later, Thor's face had lit up, in that way it did, as though he had swallowed a sunrise instead of cake. He chewed and swallowed, then exclaimed, 

"This is delicious!"

"I know!" Loki replied, feeling vindicated, as the expressions of everyone else in the room-- even the Coulsons-- turned blank with disbelief. "Mrs. Coulson, this truly is wonderful."

"Well, thank you, dear," she replied, with startled aplomb. 

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Tony blurted, just as Fury walked in. 

"Kidding about what?" the one-eyed agent demanded, apparently concluding that Tony's expression was something he needed to be concerned about. 

"We just got Loki and Thor to try a piece of fruitcake-- " Tony began, and Fury erupted. 

"You did _what?"_ he demanded. "Are you _serious?_ We've made friendly contact with helpful-- and incidentally _really damned powerful_ \-- aliens-- " well, if Coulson's mother had not known there was anything odd about some of her fellow guests before, she did now-- "and you idiots went and fed them _fruitcake?_ What, inciting diplomatic incidents here on _Earth_ isn't enough for you?"

Everyone froze-- Loki with the last bite of cake halfway to his mouth, Thor in the act of cutting himself his own second slice. And then Coulson said-- quietly, but with an undertone of menace everyone in the room knew very well, and preferred to have directed at somebody else--

"My _mother_ offered it to them. It's her _grandmother's recipe."_

"Oh." Fury blinked his one eye, and had the grace to look somewhat abashed. Loki was fascinated. It was nearly as astonishing to witness as Odin looking abashed might be. "Well, I apologize, Mrs. Coulson, I-- "

"It's all right, Director Fury," Mrs. Coulson replied. "It's a Christmas tradition in our family, and has been since my grandmother's day-- we _always_ bake a fruitcake at Christmas, and we _always_ have it on the table… but until this minute, I don't think I've ever seen _anyone_ voluntarily eat it!"

There was a silence. 

Then:

"I really do not understand you mortals," said Thor, with his mouth full. And, 

"Does this mean you do not expect us to share?" Loki asked hopefully.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** Once again, I've provided a little made-up background stuff for Mitchell, because I don't remember the show offering details about his early life, and I can't find any online. If I've missed something, let's just put it down to alternate universes. Also, though these details haven't come out in the story before, we'll assume the housemates all know them already.
> 
> Also, regarding the fruitcake thing-- I confess I was heavily influenced by jokes in American media on the subject, since the Avengers are Americans. I like the stuff myself, unless it's too boozy (lightweight, me!) and it's fun to see so many other fans!
> 
>  **Warnings:** In case we need some.

As far as Loki and Thor were concerned, coffee (or tea) and fruitcake made a very suitable breakfast, and between the two of them they made a considerable dent in the contents of the tin. Mitchell and George shared a piece, mostly for politeness although Mitchell agreed it was a very nice recipe. Several of the others were also emboldened to taste the cake, but all of them quickly offered their half-finished slices to the brothers, neither of whom was too proud to eat them. 

Tony was still looking at them with an expression of bewilderment when he finally proposed they choose their activities for the day. 

"Okay," he announced, "this morning we've got: tree-cutting, wreath-making, Pepper's tree ornament-making party, and searching the attics for those boxes of decorations from days gone by. What'll it be?"

Without hesitation, the women all and without exception volunteered to make ornaments with Pepper. Thinking about it, Loki was not surprised: although women formed a third of this party, under normal circumstances they were outnumbered on the Avengers, in SHIELD, and even (unless the witches were around) in Bristol. Loki remembered, long ago, wishing desperately for companions like himself, for even an afternoon in the presence of people who thought like himself, valued the same things, perhaps faced the same ridicule and silencing in the presence of warriors. He hoped the women of his acquaintance did not experience similar problems, or that same piercing loneliness-- at least, not now-- but he was entirely unsurprised that they should take advantage of any chance they were offered to band together for a little while. 

Thor and Rhodey still had much to do on the wreath-making front. It transpired that, as a youth before the Great War (which Loki understood to be the World War that had preceded Steve's) Mitchell's family had decorated their home in Ireland with such greenery during the holiday season. 

"Dad and my brothers and I used to make wreaths," he said. "I don't suppose I still remember how, but I should be able to learn again." 

"How many of you were there?" Steve asked quietly.

"Four of us, before the war," Mitchell replied, equally quietly, although Mrs. Coulson was out of earshot. "I was the third. Afterward, there was only Mum and Dad." 

"They never knew you were--?" Steve asked. 

"No," Mitchell said. "And what I was then, they were better not knowing." Steve patted him on the shoulder and did not press him for further details. 

"Think I'll try my hand at that, too," Fury announced. Mitchell was far too intrepid to change his choice of assignment, and in fact smiled at Fury. Loki suspected the fact Mitchell was already dead was a factor in his courage.

"Okay," said Tony, "what's left is tree-cutting, which I definitely want to do, and hunting down those old boxes of decorations."

"Hunting things down sounds up my alley," Coulson decided. 

Tony grinned at him. "Okay, cool. The attics in this wing have of course been converted to guest rooms-- Loki and Annie are in one of them-- "

"Which is lovely, thank you, Tony," Loki spoke up. 

"I hoped you'd like it. Anyway, in the other wing, the attics used to be servants' quarters, back in the old days when some poor little character had to get up at four o'clock in the morning to dust and make up fires and such before the rich folks got up, like house elves at Hogwarts-- "

Or like servants in the palace of Asgard, Loki acknowledged guiltily. Although, at least, no one was compelled to scamper about with early tea trays, since the court did not know about tea.

"-- and those rooms are now used for storage. I assume the boxes are clearly marked, because Dad was pretty anal about that kind of thing, but I have no idea where they'd be or how much other stuff is up there. Maybe JARVIS can help you."

"I will do my best, sir," JARVIS promised. 

Steve looked a little guilty. "I can help, too," he offered. Loki glanced at Tony, quickly enough to see a flash of disappointment cross his host's face. It was gone in an instant, and Loki found himself recollecting that Steve had reasons of his own for disliking the cold and snow, much more pressing reasons than Loki, who of course did not even consciously remember his own unfortunate early experiences. It was clear that Tony understood, but at the same time--

"I would like to help find a tree," Loki said quickly. "Please." 

"I'd like to do that, too," George spoke up. 

"Count me in," Bruce said. "Although to be honest I don't know one end of an axe from another."

"I do," said Clint. "Although really, man, just look for the sharp edges."

"Thanks for the tip," said Bruce.

"I bet Loki's a hand with an axe, too," Clint pointed out. 

"I have some experience," Loki admitted, "none of which is of much use to us in this context." There was a short pause while the others thought about that, and Loki looked a little sheepish. 

"Well, if we're _attacked_ by any trees, I'm sure you'll know exactly what to do," Clint said after a moment. 

"A simple fire spell is generally enough to ward them off," Loki agreed casually, carefully suppressing a grin at the expressions his remark brought to the humans' faces. 

"Okay, then," Tony said, his good humour renewed, "shall we get underway?"

~oOo~

Annie had been right about the snow: it was very much deeper here than it was back home in Bristol. This was particularly true in the forest, especially since there had clearly been no trespassers on Tony's property this winter. The five hearty woodsmen were compelled to break trail for themselves. The snow was well above Loki's knees as he trudged through it in the lead. As he was much the tallest member of the party, the others were even more seriously inconvenienced, even floundering along in Loki's tracks. The only member of the group who had no difficulty was, of course, Scamp, who scuttled cheerfully over the smooth white surface, tail wagging joyfully. 

"You really never thought about investing in snowshoes?" Clint asked, for the third time at least in the past half-hour. 

"'Fraid not," said Tony, sounding regretful and more than a little out of breath. He had long since ceased his renditions of "The Lumberjack Song," a circumstance Loki could not really mourn, the ability to sing apparently not being numbered among Tony's many virtues. 

"You might want to get on that for next year," Bruce called tiredly from the rear, where he and George were taking their turn to drag the sled upon which the tree was to be carried.

In spite of the cold and the inconvenience, though, Loki found he really was enjoying himself. The exercise was keeping most of him warm, and his knitted hat and scarf protected his ears and neck, where the cold was most apt to attack. The sun was well up and shone brightly over the snow, he could see tracks of little animals across its surface, and a few hardy birds fluttered in the leafless branches above him. It was rather like the expeditions of his youth, except for the fact he was not trailing along at the rear, wishing someone would remember he was there and speak to him. 

The section of forest nearest the house was made up of old fruit trees, and of oaks and maples, deciduous trees quite unsuitable for the current purpose. Loki found himself leading the way deeper into the forest, looking for evergreens of a suitable size to be chosen as a Christmas tree. He was imagining the height of the big front room where it was to be placed, trying to calculate a compromise between a size that would not be dwarfed by the space, but yet could be readily dragged back to the house by their party. He was also, it must be admitted, especially alert because he wanted, if possible, to be the one who actually found the tree for them. He was quite aware this was not a competition, but yet he hoped--

"Wait, everyone-- look at that one," Loki called, gesturing with a mittened hand at a fir tree standing alone in a clearing. It was about three feet taller than Loki, with beautifully spread and shapely branches. Loki experienced a pang of regret at the idea of cutting it down, wondered whether it would be possible to cast a spell that would allow him to return it to its place here a few days hence. Still, it was a lovely example of what they were looking for. 

"That's perfect, Loki," George called, with enthusiasm. Nobody else had much to add, and Loki, disappointed, looked around at his companions to see what their objections might be.

It took only a moment to see the problem was not with the tree, nor their opinions about it. Indeed, it seemed likely that none of the human members of the party had any opinions about anything at all at the moment, given their state of exhaustion. Loki found this alarming as well as confusing-- he was admittedly rather tired himself, but was certainly nothing like as worn-out looking as--

 _Oh._ Oh, of course: Loki had been so busy remembering expeditions of his distant youth, when he was the youngest and most easily tired, and had often found himself struggling along hoping someone else would suggest stopping for a rest... He had been so busy feeling glad that _this_ journey was not like those others had been, that he had quite forgotten that most of his companions were _human._ Fit and healthy humans, yes, but humans nonetheless, and their physical endurance, while high for their species, was therefore nowhere nearly as great as that of any Aesir, let alone one in good condition. Or a werewolf, if it came to that. 

"You are all-- you should have said something," Loki exclaimed. "I did not realize how tired you were becoming!"

"Not tired," Bruce said, sitting down in the deep snow. Scamp hurried up to him and climbed into his lap, which might have been helpful had she possessed an actual body, and therefore body heat.

"Hey, man, don't do that," Clint said, leaning on a tree. "Didn't you read Jack London when you were a kid?" 

"Anyway, we couldn't turn back before we found a tree," Tony pointed out. 

"Bother the tree, you could have told me we needed to stop, and George and Thor and I could have come back later," Loki pointed out. He knew as he said it that he was being silly: not even Bruce, let alone the prouder and more stubborn Clint and Tony, would have consented to be the one who asked to stop. Which Loki, after centuries in the same position, should have realized. How he could have been so _thoughtless--_

"Anyway, we're here now," Tony said. "And that tree's perfect, so how about we cut it down and talk about getting back after?"

"Good idea," Clint applauded, then slid down his tree and sat in the snow. Loki opened his mouth to remind him that sitting down was not a good idea right now, but decided against it. Instead, he floundered through the deep snow to the sled, where he retrieved the axe in its protective sheath. 

Tyr the weapons-master had taught the art of axe-handling, but Loki had spoken truth when he said the lessons had not had much to do with trees. Still, there were definite points in common, and before long the tree was lying in the snow. George brought some lengths of cord from a backpack on the sled, and together they tied up the branches to prevent damage to their prize in transit. 

And then they looked at the three exhausted, and by now very chilled, humans, and Loki began to feel serious misgivings. 

"You are not going to be able to walk all that way back," he said flatly. "Not without resting, and it is too cold for that."

"Apparently not," Tony admitted, after an attempt to get to his feet. "I don't suppose you can turn yourself into a team of malamutes?"

"No," Loki replied. "Although I do not know what a malamute is." He chewed his lower lip. "However-- "

There was no real explanation for his decision, before they left the house, to add one more item of equipment to the backpack with the cords and the sheathed axe. He had not really expected to need it. Indeed, he had not _wanted_ to need it. However, they had proposed to hike off into deep snow, and Loki supposed he had feared himself getting into distress and needing a way to avoid becoming a drag on the company. 

"Bruce," he said, "whatever I do next, can you promise you will not become angry?"

"I'll do my best," was the answer. "Although, to be honest, I'm starting to feel just the tiniest bit peevish, and if we go on like this much longer-- "

The idea of being out here in the forest with George, two exhausted humans, and the Hulk was sufficient to spur Loki to action. 

"Wait here," he ordered, and from the backpack he pulled a pair of bright red running shorts. The red was regrettable, but this was the largest pair he had been able to find, and it was not as if Loki proposed to wear them very often in public. He had only packed them because... well, he did not really know _why_ he had packed them, but apparently it was lucky he had.

Leaving three of his companions looking very puzzled indeed, Loki ducked (for reasons of modesty) into a thick stand of trees and began hastily to disrobe. The cold quickly went from unpleasant to nearly unbearable, especially on his bare feet, and his hands were soon almost too cold to manage the shorts. And then it took him a moment to cease thinking about the discomfort of the external cold, to close his eyes and concentrate on calling up a sensation of _internal_ cold. 

A moment later, however, he could feel the change, the chill spreading from his diaphragm outward, then the sensation of a pleasantly mild temperature. He opened his eyes to a world in which the glare of sunlight on snow was muted, all colours were subtly darkened, and everything around him seemed a great deal _smaller._

"All right," he called, his voice no longer exactly his own, but deeper and rumbling from his new barrel of a chest, "I am coming out again." He pushed aside the branches in his way and tramped into the open. 

Scamp reacted first, bounding up and wriggling around him in one of her joyous circles. And George, of course, had known exactly what Loki was going to do. It occurred to him that he might have been well-advised to _tell_ the others his plan, rather than keep his own counsel and then spring this on them. 

It also occurred to him, although he had not done it on purpose, that this was probably a test. 

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Tony said, 

"Holy _shit,_ Loki. When did you get so _big?_ You weren't that big when Helblindi used the Casket to, to bring you back-- " _from the dead_ "-- and it turned you Jotun that time." 

"This is a recent development," Loki admitted. His theory was that his magic had needed contact with the Jotnar, to learn to change his form fully. "I am still very small, for a Jotun-- "

"Yeah, but there's a big damn difference between six-foot-two and _eight_ foot whatever-you-are. Does Thor know you can do this? Have you ever picked him up and sat him on your knee, like a little kid with Santa Claus?" Tony was not too tired to be gleeful, which was no surprise from Tony. 

It was more of a shock when Clint burst out laughing. 

"Sorry," he spluttered. "Sorry, sorry, it's just-- you're blue. You're all blue, and those shorts are red, and... Superman pajamas. I had Superman pajamas, when I was a kid, and you look _just like_ you're wearing-- " He collapsed against his tree, giggling weakly. 

Loki looked down at himself as Bruce also began to laugh. "Yes, well. The red is unfortunate-- "

"Unfortunately _awesome_ ," Clint corrected him.

"But it was difficult to find shorts large enough to fit me in this form." This made all three humans howl with laughter-- giddy with exhaustion, Loki decided. "I suggest you all ride on the sled, and I will carry the tree and pull you. Yes?"

"It's just like the year I was six," Tony spluttered, almost weeping with laughter. "Dad and I went looking for the tree together, at the country house in New York-- a little father-and-son bonding, and then I got tired and Dad had to drag me home on the toboggan and carry the tree." He wiped his eyes with a gloved hand. "I think that was the best day I ever spent with Dad."

Perhaps it was not entirely laughter, that made Tony's eyes so wet.

"Well," Loki said, for lack of anything better to offer, "now you may pretend you have brothers."

"And a Dad who goes out in public in _Superman pajamas_ ," Clint hooted, floundering onto the sled. 

Bruce collapsed next to him, but asked, "Really, though, have you shown this form to Thor yet? He's never mentioned it."

"Yes," Loki replied. "At Thanksgiving. He was rather startled, though not troubled by it. I suppose... I suppose he must have decided to let me show you all on my own time."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you did it now," Tony said, to sounds of general agreement. He pushed the other two to budge up so he could also sit down. He pulled George with him. Scamp considered the situation, and also hopped onto the sled, sitting at the very front and wagging her tail, rather like the Grinch's little dog, Max. 

"Can you touch anyone, when you're like this?" Bruce asked. "We had to be careful, when the Jotnar were helping us, right?"

"Right," Loki replied. "I think there must be some way to stop my touch from automatically hurting other living creatures, though. Annie brought a book about Jotunheim from Asgard, after the celebrations. It was written before the war-- I wish I had known about it centuries ago-- and it referred to marriages between the Jotnar and several other races of the Nine Realms. It was only afterward that they became so isolated. At any rate, that must mean they can somehow hold in the power that burns others, yes?" 

"Like holding your breath?" Bruce speculated, as Loki began to pull. 

"Like holding in your wee, maybe," George suggested, and Loki stumbled a little as the remark startled a giggle out of him. 

"Yes, well, hold on, the lot of you, and do not make me come back there," Loki rumbled, in his best imitation of Midgardian fathers he had seen on the television. Then, pulling the sled behind him, he began briskly to walk back toward the house.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** Slightly awkward transitional chapter. Sorry.
> 
>  **Warnings:** None needed.

Loki was immersed to his nose in a tub full of hot water and lavender-scented bubbles when Annie tapped on the bathroom door. 

"Are you okay in there?" she called. 

"Perfectly," he replied. 

"Can I come in?" she asked. 

Loki sat up a little, decided there were sufficient bubbles for decency, and sank back down in the water. "Please do."

Annie opened the door and slipped through, which for some reason Loki found endearing, considering she had no need of human entryways. She walked over to the bathtub and sat on the mat beside it, and Loki shifted around so his head was as near hers as possible.

"How are you?" she asked. "All recovered?"

"I think so," Loki said, stretching under the water. 

"Oh, good," Annie said. "I was a little worried." 

"How nice," Loki replied, lifting himself out of the tub just far enough that he could reach over and kiss her. 

The tree-cutting group had arrived at the house some forty-five minutes earlier, by which time the three humans were badly chilled, but otherwise had apparently come to little harm. Loki stopped at some distance from the house and shooed them toward it, with commands to quickly get out of their wet things and also not track snow all over the entryway. (He rather thought he was getting his Midgardian-fathers' speeches mixed up with Midgardian-mothers' speeches, but no one in the group objected.) 

The humans sent on their way, Loki and George had continued around the house to the storage building in the back, where a tree stand had been placed in readiness before the expedition. Loki had unwrapped the tree, shaken off the snow, and held it standing up while George adjusted the tree stand. They had then left its branches to dry and fluff up again so it could be brought in later that evening to be decorated.

Loki had then shifted back into his Aesir form, and George helped him get dressed again in his discarded clothes. These were, of course, thoroughly wet and by now nearly frozen. Once back in his customary form, Loki also discovered he had apparently exerted himself more than he realized: his muscles were not only shaking with cold, but twitching with exhaustion. He and George tramped back into the house through the kitchen, where Pepper informed them that the rest of the party had been sent for restorative hot baths, and bid them do likewise. Loki obeyed, resorting to a short magical jump rather than trying to cope with all those stairs.

While filling the tub and struggling out of his clothing once again, Loki had found a bottle marked "Lavender, for Relaxation" and tipped a goodly amount into the water. To his pleasure, the label had not lied. He now felt warm and peaceful, and not at all in a hurry to lever himself out of the water, which responded nicely to minor heating spells and was therefore still steaming gently. 

"I went and had a look at the tree," Annie informed him. "It's just beautiful. I can't wait to bring it in and decorate it. You did a great job picking it out."

"I cannot wait to see it all dressed in your ornaments," Loki replied contentedly. "Did you have a pleasant time making them?" 

"I did," Annie sighed happily. "All of us did, even Natasha and Agent Hill. And Mrs. Coulson is really sweet. She thinks we're mutants, incidentally."

"Pardon?" Loki asked, still feeling a little woolly-brained with the hot water and tiredness. 

"Mitchell and George and me. Apparently, Coulson told her we're mutants. Obviously she knows you're an alien-- "

"She certainly does _now,"_ Loki replied, remembering Fury's outburst in the kitchen. 

Annie rumpled his wet hair. "Coulson works with the Avengers. Thor is a member of the Avengers, and he certainly doesn't pretend to be a farm boy from... from one of those states in the middle. And you're Thor's brother. She already knew you were an alien," she reminded him patiently. "In fact, she also knows you're Jotun."

Loki sat up abruptly, with a considerable splash. It was fortunate Annie could not get wet. "She _what?"_

"Apparently she was looking out a side window when you brought the others back. When Tony came in, she asked who was the 'blue person' who'd been hauling the sled."

"And Tony told her?" Loki demanded, his heart accelerating. 

"No, Thor was right there, so he just explained it was you, that you were adopted from a different realm and sometimes you took on the form you were born in, although you generally found it more comfortable to stay in the Aesir one." Annie smiled. "He was completely casual about it. I really could have kissed him." 

"And Mrs. Coulson was not alarmed?" Loki asked, aware it sounded like a plea. He had at some point wrapped his arms around himself.

Annie reached up to pet his hair again. "Loki, she's at a house party where one of the other guests is _the Hulk._ And... I always thought Agent Coulson is the way he is because of his SHIELD training. Apparently, he inherited it." As flustered as he was, it took Loki a moment to decipher what Annie meant by "it": which was to say, Coulson's... Coulson-ness.

"So she-- ?" he prompted. 

"Asked whether you had any food sensitivities she should be aware of. I'm serious, that was the first thing she thought of, making sure she didn't offer you something you couldn't eat in your Jotun form. Thor said he was unaware of anything and that you had never been a fussy eater, and that was the end of it."

"I am not extremely fond of pickled herring," Loki murmured. 

"Smart of you," Annie said. "Anyway, come on down when you're ready, and don't be self-conscious, all right? Tony really seems to have had the best time _ever,_ getting dragged home on the sled, and he's going to want to talk about it."

Loki smiled in spite of himself. "Yes, he said it reminded him of a fond memory of his father."

"And I doubt he has a whole lot of those," Annie pointed out. 

Loki nodded. "You are, of course, correct. Very well, I will be down shortly."

"Okay. I'll leave you." Annie kissed him again, quickly, and got up to go.

"Annie?" Loki called after her, and she turned in the doorway. 

"Yes?"

"I have been thinking... I am enjoying this trip very much and-- would you perhaps care to, to accompany me on another little excursion sometime? Perhaps to Vanaheim?" Already flushed from the hot water, Loki could feel his face getting even warmer, and he spoke quickly, before he lost his nerve. "I know of a very nice inn, and-- "

Annie tilted her head on one side. "When you say a 'nice' inn-- by 'nice,' do you happen to mean 'romantic'?" 

Loki fought the urge to dive back under the bubbles. "Um. Well, yes. Now you mention it." 

"Vanaheim," Annie went on, musingly. "Where I'm pretty much, as you put it, _corporeal."_

Never let it be said that Annie was not quick.

"Well, yes," Loki muttered. 

Annie smiled mischievously and narrowed her eyes. "So... am I right in assuming this is an improper suggestion?" After a merciless little pause, she added, "At least, I certainly _hope_ it is."

Loki blushed harder. "Yes, well, you are not mistaken." 

"In that case, I accept," Annie replied, blew him a kiss, and vanished. 

~oOo~

Loki was very tempted indeed to put his pajamas on when he emerged from the bath, but since it was not even teatime he decided that could hardly be justified. Instead, he put on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved blue t-shirt under a short-sleeved red one-- he hoped this would amuse Clint-- and started back downstairs. 

"Sir, if you wish to allow your pets to wander a little, I will be glad to continue to monitor them," JARVIS offered as Loki approached the door.

Loki looked up. "JARVIS, may I ask you something?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Are you bored? Because it really seems to me that observing kittens is perhaps not exactly a challenge to your considerable abilities." 

"Oh, no, sir. I have been making a most interesting study of the divergence of their movements from the laws of physics. Mr. Stark does not keep pets, and so this is a new area of investigation for me. Please do not be concerned."

"Well, as long as it is not an imposition… " Loki murmured, and opened the bedroom door. It occurred to him to wonder whether JARVIS was incapable of boredom, or was perhaps programmed to ward off the state as it occurred. Loki had considerable experience with the chaos that could be caused when, say, so-called Gods of Mischief-- or, perhaps worse, _schoolchildren_ \-- found their own means of assuaging boredom, but apparently Tony had done a responsible job of programming his AI. 

Loki decided he would tell Tony so, at the first opportune moment. That was to say, at a time when there were only soft things on hand for the engineer to throw at him. 

Philip and Elizabeth were by now more than eager to leave the bedroom and encounter the wide world beyond. At the same time, even with so many choices of direction to take, they seemed to find reassurance in having Loki nearby, and insinuated themselves practically under his feet as he descended the two flights of stairs. 

"Really, you two, anyone would think you meant me to fall to my death," Loki whispered as he untangled himself from them on the landing. "And then who would you sleep with?"

As they reached the ground floor, a friendly buzz of conversation could be heard coming from the direction of the room with the television and the comfortable seats. Philip and Elizabeth perked their ears, hoisted their tails, and galloped ahead of Loki toward the sound of familiar voices. When Loki caught up to them, they were walking back and forth across the legs of George and Mitchell, loudly proclaiming how much they had been missed. 

"It's good to see you, too," George was saying to Philip, just as the kitten noticed the many new and untested laps in the room. Philip stretched his neck tall as he assessed the situation, then made his choice.

The next thing anyone knew, a black-and-white blur had resolved itself back into a kitten sitting in a lap, one clothed in black trousers. 

"Hello, cat," said Director Fury. Philip looked up at the one-eyed man with an expression of perfect composure, squinted his eyes, and began to purr. Loki, who had been about to apply a small flying spell to retrieve his pet, stayed his hand: Director Fury did not look displeased to have been selected, and Loki had no desire to appear to insult him by snatching the kitten away. This was not so much a matter of manners as of pure self-preservation: Loki could be reckless, but he was, as any would tell you, not _stupid._

Director Fury began rubbing Philip's head in a matter-of-fact, man-to-cat way. Loki left them to it and seated himself on the arm of the chair currently occupied by Annie. 

Elizabeth, not as boisterously friendly as her brother, took a little longer to consider her options. Then she hopped from the sofa to the coffee table, walked diagonally across it, and thence to the arm of a comfortable chair occupied by Mrs. Coulson. She arrived just as Clint was offering that lady a small lacquered tray, upon which were carried small china vessels containing milk and sugar, as well as a cup and a dainty little teapot with steam rising gently from the spout. 

"Hello, little kitty," Mrs. Coulson cooed to Elizabeth, before turning her attention to Clint. "Thank you so much," she addressed him, with rather more than her usual air of competent friendliness. Clint actually blushed a little, which was really just as incongruous as seeing him with the tea tray in the first place, and set the tea things on a small table at her elbow.

Elizabeth, with an impressive show of good manners, waited for Mrs. Coulson to be settled with her cup of tea before stepping down into the lady's lap. Mrs. Coulson displayed a competence worthy of her son as she dealt with her cup with one hand and scratched Elizabeth's head and neck with the other. 

"Are these your kittens?" she addressed Loki, as though half the party had arrived accompanied by a feline retinue. Loki nodded. "They're very sweet."

"Thank you," Loki said. "I agree, but I confess I am partial." 

Mrs. Coulson smiled at him, and not even Loki could see anything uneasy underneath. She then addressed the rest of the tree-hunting group at large. "Maria-- " it took Loki a moment to connect this name with Agent Hill-- "and I went out to look at the tree you found. It's beautiful. I hope we've made enough decorations for it."

Speaking of decorations, those made by the work party that morning were not yet in evidence. Loki considered this just as well, since strings of popcorn and cranberries sounded like exactly the sort of item made to be wrestled with by kittens. As Mrs. Coulson spoke, though, Tony looked up from the cardboard box he was examining on the floor in front of the television.

"And on that note, time to take a look in here," he said, opening the flaps. Philip jumped off Fury's lap and trotted over to Tony, where he stood on his hind legs and peered into the box. Tony grinned as he reached over the kitten to investigate. "There must be something in here we can-- " Tony fell suddenly, utterly silent. Loki leaned forward, concerned, as Tony stared into the box, but he did not speak, nor did anyone else. 

After a moment, Tony became aware of the eyes upon him. Looking awkward and surprised, he reached into the cardboard box and lifted out a small plastic tub, such as one would use to store leftover food. 

Written on the lid and the sides, in heavy black marker, was the word _TONY_ , and a date.

"What is it?" Pepper finally asked gently. 

Tony did not reply at once. Instead, he pried open the lid, reached in, and brought out several small metal discs hanging on loops of faded red or green ribbon. When he held them up, Loki could see patterns on their surfaces, and realized they were formed of holes punched into the metal, perhaps with a hammer and nail. Tony laid the discs on the floor, carefully arranging them so that the ribbon was displayed. Philip made a pounce and this time Loki did magically scoop him up, transporting the indignant kitten to his own lap.

"Behave yourself," he whispered, hugging Philip. 

By this time, Tony had also retrieved a number of shapes that seemed to have been made by stringing colourful beads on lengths of wire, and then twisting them into circles or spirals. After that were little trees made from felt, with more beads glued to them. Again, each item had a ribbon attached as though to hang it from the branches of a tree. 

Pepper finally sank to the floor beside Tony, looking at the decorations. 

"Yours?" she prompted gently. 

"Yeah," Tony said, without looking up. "The last Christmas we spent here-- I was ten or eleven, and I caught a terrible case of the flu right after we arrived. I was too miserable to get out of bed for a couple of days, didn't even feel like reading. But the housekeeper brought me some stuff to make crafts with-- I was way too old for this kind of thing, but it gave me something to do, and we put them on the tree." He picked up a little felt tree with a forced chuckle. "I wasn't exactly artistic. I figured they must have all been thrown out."

Pepper rubbed his back. "Can we use them now?"

"Sure," Tony said. He put the little tree back in the container, then bundled the others away, closed the lid, and handed it to Pepper. "You're in charge," he said, with a smile that did not look entirely natural. Then he cleared his throat and looked around at the others. "I thought we might just make hamburgers tonight. That okay with everyone?"

The others made noises of assent. Tony closed the flaps of the cardboard box and got to his feet. When he faced them all, he was once again smiling his familiar Tony Stark smile. 

"And I suggest everyone get all rested up tonight, because tomorrow is Festivus!"

Loki leaned over to Annie. "Do we yet know what Festivus _is?"_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** In which Loki and his friends finally learn about Festivus. I apologize to anyone who celebrates this holiday if I have gotten the details mixed up. Although some of them are mixed up on purpose. Also, I have no idea about the topography of Brooklyn or Bristol, in case a couple of throwaway lines turn out to be inaccurate.
> 
> Also, I have been unable to find out whether "crazy carpet" is a term used outside Canada, so let's just pretend Tony has connections, yes?
> 
> **Warnings:** In case we need some.

Pepper came down early the following morning, in pajamas and a bright green robe, her hair caught up in a messy ponytail. She made her way to the kitchen to start the coffee--

"Good morning," said a chorus of voices, as Pepper walked in. 

"Oh-- good morning," she replied, looking around at Mitchell, George, Loki, Annie, Thor, and Jane at the table. They were already eating breakfast (oatmeal, oatmeal, fruitcake, nothing, oatmeal with fruitcake, and toast respectively) and, despite their own pajamas and robes (except of course for Annie) they somehow managed to look as though they had been up for a considerable time. Sounding inane to her own ears, Pepper observed, "You're up early."

"We could not sleep a wink," Loki explained solemnly. "We were far too excited, because today is Festivus." 

Pepper walked over to the coffee maker, which had already supplied Thor and Jane with their first cups of the day. Over her shoulder, she remarked, "I can never tell whether you're serious."

Thor, George, and Mitchell muffled snickers, and Loki smiled innocently-- at least, he did until Annie poked him just below the ribs and he doubled over. 

"When he _looks_ that serious, he almost never _is,"_ Annie explained. 

Loki straightened, poured himself a little more tea, and said to Pepper,

"Really, though, I think we are all most interested to learn what this Festivus _is."_

"I know we should have done some research before we came," George added, apologetically, "but somehow we didn't get around to it, what with packing and gift shopping and all."

"And besides," Annie said, glancing around at the others, "we thought Tony might get a kick out of explaining it to us."

Pepper smiled and took her first sip of coffee. "You really are good friends," she said, filled a second mug, and retreated back upstairs with both of them. 

About an hour later, the entire group gathered in the room with the sofas and the television, to finally hear Tony's explanation of this mysterious holiday. 

"It has come to my attention," their host said, in a mock-pompous tone that made Clint, who had just brought Mrs. Coulson another cup of tea, throw a paper napkin at him, "that some of us gathered here today _do not know what Festivus is."_ He glanced down at Loki, seated on the floor at Annie's feet, with a lapful of kittens. Loki did his best to look eager for enlightenment. 

"It's a made-up holiday created for an episode of a TV show called _Seinfeld_ ," Rhodey called. 

"Wrong!" Tony replied, with exactly the same gestures and diction as Willy Wonka delivering the same line. "It's actually a made-up holiday that's been celebrated for many years by the family of the guy who _wrote_ the episode of _Seinfeld_."

"So, it's a one-hundred percent genuine made-up holiday," said Mitchell, who was sitting beside Loki. "That makes perfect sense."

"Don't be sarcastic," Annie said, leaning forward to rumple his hair. "This is _us_ we're talking about, after all." 

"Good point," Mitchell conceded, making a token effort to smooth back his black curls. 

"Now, Festivus is often presented as an alternative to the _shameless commercialization_ s of Christmas," Tony, himself generally the embodiment of all kinds of shameless commercialization, said with a straight face. 

"Another alternative would be to simply _not participate_ in the shameless commercialization of Christmas," Mrs. Coulson remarked aside to Steve. Steve demonstrated his acculturation to the current era by holding up a fist, which Mrs. Coulson duly bumped with her own. 

"That is the message proclaimed by Charlie Brown, is it not?" Loki spoke up. Everyone looked at him. "What? I work at a primary school, remember?"

_"Anyway,"_ Tony said loudly, recapturing the attention of the assembly, "I feel a more plausible explanation of the origins of Festivus is, it's an excuse to have a whole lot of silly fun with your family, or the local equivalent thereof." He glanced around the room, at the various configurations of his guests and added, "Or, you know, both." 

"And what might be the nature of such silly fun?" asked Loki, who was beginning to think this was a holiday he could whole-heartedly support, much like April Fool's Day.

"According to tradition," Tony said pompously, and Clint threw another crumpled napkin at him, "the principle observances of Festivus include the traditional meal of spaghetti and red sauce-- " Loki, who was very fond of marinara sauce, perked up still more at this news-- "accompanied by the Feats of Strength-- " this was less promising-- "and the Airing of Grievances-- " and that was even worse. Loki had _already_ aired all of his grievances, and had little wish to revisit any of them at this time. Also, as much as he accepted that other people had a right to express their own complaints against him, he really did not care for the idea of a whole holiday devoted to the purpose, especially when he had been having such a nice time so far. 

Still, he would not be the one to ruin Tony's fun, so Loki composed his expression into his most convincingly eager smile.

Not, apparently, as convincing as it once had been, because as Tony smiled expansively around the room, he seemed to catch Loki's eye for a moment. 

"Now, the thing about the Airing of Grievances is, it's perfectly okay to make a rule that you can only air grievances against people who aren't here. Or against institutions, or-- "

"People who park over the lines in parking lots, so when you get back to your car, you can't open your driver's side door," Coulson contributed, darkly. 

"I'm pretty sure you've got ways of dealing with that kind of thing," Bruce muttered. Natasha poked him, glancing at Mrs. Coulson out of the corner of her eye. Mrs. Coulson looked brightly unruffled. 

"Also, about the Feats of Strength-- " Tony said. "We don't have to exactly follow the usual tradition there, either." 

"Oh? And what's the usual tradition?" Mitchell asked, looking alert. There was a human expression that referred to the impression one had "scented blood," but given Mitchell's specific condition this was probably not the best wording to choose. Still, Mitchell was undeniably bright-eyed with interest. 

"Um, well," Tony hedged. 

"The Feats of Strength," Clint said loudly, "involve the party nominating someone to-- I think it's wrestle-- with the head of the household-- that would be Tony. When the head of the household is pinned, Festivus is over. I nominate Thor, incidentally."

"I think the head of the household actually gets to do the nominating," Tony argued. 

"But I'm pretty sure the head of the household doesn't get to wear his Iron Man suit," Clint went on relentlessly. "And I still nominate Thor."

"How about Rogers?" called Hill. "With or without the suit."

Tony was probably aware that, out of his suit, he was no match for any of his guests, with the likely exceptions of Annie, Pepper, and Mrs. Coulson. And Loki was beginning to entertain doubts about Mrs. Coulson. 

"There's no rule about _not_ wearing the Iron Man suit," Tony argued, even though he had apparently meant to propose a change to the custom anyway. 

"In that case," said Coulson, "I nominate Annie and a big pile of firewood."

"I nominate Pepper," Annie spoke up. Everyone looked at her, and she offered her most angelic smile. "She's probably got more practical experience at pinning Tony than any of the rest of us." Pepper threw a paper napkin at her.

"I like your style," Tony replied with a grin, "but I have a different idea. The Feats of Strength can be represented by any kind of athletic endeavor-- shut up, Clint, I looked it up-- so I propose we forget about ending the holiday with that part, and go sliding this morning instead."

"Sliding is an athletic endeavor?" Steve said dubiously. 

"Climbing back up the hill with your sled certainly is," Rhodey assured him. 

"Yeah, we didn't do a lot of that in Brooklyn," Steve said. 

"What is meant by 'sliding'?" Thor finally asked, looking around. "I apologize, I do not think this is a game we played in Asgard." At the expressions on the faces of his friends, he added, "I perceive there must be little chance of bloodshed. Really, not all childhood games in Asgard ended in serious injury." He considered this for a moment, glancing self-consciously at Loki, as Jane wrapped an arm around him. 

Which was, perhaps, enough of that train of thought. Loki spoke up quickly, "I have seen children playing this way in the park. You acquire some slippery item to sit upon-- "

"We used a tea tray," Mitchell said. "We had to sneak it out of the house without Mum catching us."

"-- and then find a snow-covered hill and slide down it at great speed. It is particularly important to ensure the runout at the end can be accomplished safely." Bristol was a hilly city, and after learning of this game from the children at school, Loki had been at some pains to find the most desirable sliding locations and enchant them against serious mishap. 

"Oh," said Thor. "Well, that sounds enjoyable." Jane poked him. "No, really, it sounds enjoyable. I am certain our friend Volstagg would have been able to attain considerable velocity."

"I wonder if it is a popular pastime on Jotunheim?" Loki speculated, remembering the Jotun children they had met on his last-- probably last-ever-- visit to the realm on which he had been born.

"No doubt," Tony agreed. "Now, we don't have anything like enough tea trays here, and we're a little big for them anyway. But I did a bit of research, and it turns out our ingenious neighbors to the north-- "

"Canadians," George said, aside, to Loki, whose grasp of Midgardian geography was not very reliable outside Europe. 

"Yes, exactly. In Canada, they've got a thing called a 'crazy carpet,' which is just a piece of slick plastic that's good on most snowy surfaces. And it turns out you can order them online from a store called Canadian Tire," Tony explained. "In bulk, if need be. And before anyone gives me that 'oh, Tony' look, they cost about four bucks each and I got a break on the shipping. There's a perfect hill just west of here, so I suggest we go sliding, then have our spaghetti for... well, either lunch or what you British-- "

"-- and Irish," Mitchell murmured.

"-- and Irish people call tea," agreed Tony, without missing a beat, "when we get back. We can do the Airing of Grievances then. _Without_ reference to anybody present right now. Is that okay with everyone?"

"Sure," came the general chorus of agreement from everyone except Fury, who did not actively object. 

"I think I'll decline, if you don't mind," Mrs. Coulson said. "It would put a real damper on the party if the old lady broke a hip. And I've been hoping for a chance to look around at the architecture of this house without feeling like I'm being unsociable."

"Are you sure you don't mind being on your own?" asked Steve, who looked as though he would perhaps appreciate an excuse to skip the sliding party, himself. 

"I won't be alone, dear. JARVIS is here, and I hope Loki's little friends will want to visit with me," Mrs. Coulson replied reasonably. Steve nodded, and fortunately managed not to look disappointed. 

The group dispersed to put on extra layers of warm clothing, intending to meet on the front steps half an hour hence. Loki declined Clint's suggestion that he once again garb himself in his "Superman pajamas." Assuming Jotun form would have ensured he did not become chilled during the activity, but would also render him unable to make physical contact with any of the others. His experiences the day before suggested Loki could cope with cold as long as he was in friendly company, and so the trade seemed acceptable.

Which did not at all mean he would fail to take reasonable precautions. And, thinking about it, he remembered he was not the only member of the group with what might be described as an aversion. Once he was wearing as much clothing as he could put on, Loki asked Annie to use her ability to locate those for whom she had an affinity to find Steve's room. The two caught him as he was about to descend the stairs to join the party.

"Steve, are you all right?" Annie asked, without preamble. It was unlike Annie to be so abrupt, which might have been what startled Steve into answering her with equal candor. 

"Not so much," he admitted. "I know it's stupid of me, but I don't seem to be able to get over being uncomfortable with cold and snow. It's not that I'm scared-- " Steve broke off, looked at Annie's and Loki's sympathetic faces, and then said slowly, "Actually, it _is_. It's that being cold makes me feel scared and out of control, and-- it's okay when we're on a mission, when I've got something to focus on. It's just... not _fun._ I'm not going to disappoint Tony, but the _last_ thing I want to do is go play in the snow." He shook his head. "But I don't want to put a damper on things, either. I suppose this doesn't make a lot of sense to you?"

It occurred to Loki that he had never directly confided in Steve concerning his own antipathy to cold and snow, and those who knew the story had apparently not shared this knowledge with him, either. 

"Actually," Loki admitted, "I do understand, a little. I am of course Jotun, but my Aesir form is susceptible to cold, and-- well, it seems I am indeed the worst Frost Giant ever." Annie poked him, and Loki attempted to make himself more clear. "I do not remember whether you have ever been told of the circumstances under which my father... found me?" 

Steve's eyes widened, as though he was making a leap in understanding. "You were... left... in a temple."

"To die, yes," Loki agreed. "Which I admit I do not remember, but I was still plagued for much of my life by dreams of being all alone in the cold. I do not suppose the actual cold would have been what killed me, but perhaps infants are more aware of it, or it may be I felt it after I took on the form of an Aesir baby, or... perhaps it was only my mind. Regardless, such dreams are... unpleasant."

_"Yes,"_ Steve breathed. "I've been having dreams like that since, since I came back. I don't like to complain to anyone, but... it's a bad way to wake up. And then I can't always get back to sleep. What do you do?"

Loki fidgeted. "They have become rare since I came to live in Bristol," he admitted. "It makes a great deal of difference to know there are friendly beings nearby, even asleep." Indeed, the last time he had experienced such a dream was in his old chambers in Asgard, and Thor had been there to comfort him.

And besides, Loki's distressing experience was far in the past, nothing like as fresh as Steve's. There seemed little he could offer, but something did occur to him. "Do you have a, a mobile device? A phone?" Steve looked puzzled, but nodded. "Well, if you thought it might help, you would be welcome to send me text messages any time you woke in such a state. I would not always be awake to receive them, but with the time difference, surely I would be at least part of the time. Would that-- ?"

"I'm not very good at text messages," Steve muttered.

"Thor could show you," Loki suggested, allowing himself to tease a little. Steve did laugh at that, looking sheepish. Loki went on, "The expedition in search of the tree was far more enjoyable than I expected. Really. And if you were to become... distressed... I am sure I could use an unobtrusive spell to warm you a little. You have only to indicate your discomfort. Would you be willing to try that?"

Steve sighed. "Some superhero," he said wryly. 

Loki shrugged. "It has been my experience that no one is invincible. This must be why the Avengers are a team." He added hastily, "A team that permits contributions from other parties such as my friends and myself-- "

Steve smiled. "Just _team_ is fine. And-- okay. Yes. I'd appreciate your help, if I run into trouble. That would be great. Thank you."

"You are most welcome," Loki replied. "We Hufflepuffs must stick together, after all." He smiled encouragingly. "Should we join the others?"

Steve sighed. "Might as well." Annie took his arm, and they started down the stairs together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** In which there are experiments in physics, and Tony corrects an oversight of mine. Apologies for the very truncated Yule observances mentioned here. I seem to have forgotten to include them. 
> 
> **Warnings:** None needed.

Loki, Annie, and Steve were the last to join the sliding party, but no one seemed to notice: Tony, Jane, and Clint were involved in a lively argument concerning whether there should be a plain aluminum pole raised in honour of the day. 

"Nope, that was added for the _Seinfeld_ episode," Tony insisted. "My research indicates it wasn't part of the original Festivus. And it's not that I don't trust Thor's ability to keep his temper, but I think it might be tempting fate a little bit to put what amounts to a _lightning rod_ in the middle of the living room. No offense, Thor."

"Tony makes a great deal of sense," said Thor easily. "For once." Tony made a face at him and looked up the stairs as Loki and the others descended. 

"And here's everyone, I think," he changed the subject. "Let's move 'em out." 

The "crazy carpets" were bundled together under a tarpaulin, in the same building where the tree was still awaiting their attention. Everyone took a moment to admire the tree, then each of them chose one of the identical blue plastic mats and followed Tony back out of the building. 

Today, fortunately, there was a plowed track leading to their destination, which turned out to be a large sloping pasture. The group climbed over a stone wall at the edge of the track, and found themselves standing at the top of a fairly steep snowy incline, which eventually flattened out to allow for a gradual slowing-down run across a long plain. 

"Well," said Rhodey, "that looks just about perfect." He glanced at Tony. "You want to christen it?"

"Sure," Tony agreed, unrolled his crazy carpet (the cold plastic showed a definite tendency to want to roll itself up again) and made a sort of diving bellyflop onto the slope. 

The previous day had been warmish, for winter, but the temperature had dropped again overnight, and the snow had settled into a sort of crust on the hill, where it was not as deep as on the flat. 

As a result, Tony took off as though under rocket propulsion, gliding at high speed down the hill, sailing over a few unexpected bumps, and incidentally providing a most interesting illustration of the Doppler effect on sound waves because he was screaming in delight all the way down. Scamp was unable to resist setting off in pursuit, and went bounding down the hill yapping in excitement.

The crazy carpet finally lost momentum when Tony was roughly half a mile away, and he rather dramatically allowed himself to flop over sideways, before waving one arm in encouragement to the others. Scamp rushed up and began to lick his face, which Loki knew from experience was a peculiar feeling. 

"Well," said Clint, "that looks promising." And without further ado, he dove headfirst down the hill after Tony. 

Loki and Annie, who had decided to share a carpet, glanced at each other. "I think I understand the physical principles involved," he said. 

"Oh, good," Annie replied, wrapped her arms around his neck, and held on as Loki threw them both down the slope. 

It flashed through Loki's mind that, if this _had_ been a childhood pastime in Asgard, he might have been cured of his fear of the cold at a much younger age. The sensation of gliding down the hill was very much like flying, and the cold air whipping at his face was exhilarating rather than distressing, even when his eyes began to tear. Annie's shrieks were left behind as they sped down the slope, and Loki was only vaguely aware of Thor, with his greater weight, sliding past them. 

As the slope leveled out and their speed decreased, Loki was able to look around-- just in time to throw his arms up as they collided with Tony and Clint, who were about to start the climb back up the hill. The two Avengers went down in a pile that effectively impeded the progress of Loki and Annie's crazy carpet, and they all ended up in a tangle of arms and legs-- except for Annie, who was curled up laughing a few feet away when Mitchell and George went flying past her. 

George's shrieks were even shriller than Annie's. 

Rhodey was quite right, climbing up the hill between runs provided them with considerable exercise. As they toiled back up the slope yet again, Loki did his best to keep an unobtrusive watch on Steve, looking for any signs of misery. He was pleased and relieved to see the captain laughing as he returned the knitted hat Agent Hill had lost in a collision with Bruce and Agent Coulson at the bottom of a run. He looked just as flushed and overheated as everyone else, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. 

Having no wish to single Steve out or make him feel conspicuous, Loki turned away. As it happened, he did so just as Clint, flying down the hill with Natasha sitting on the carpet behind him, made a most agile move to his feet, in the manner of one riding a surfboard, and attempted to tackle Loki. 

Having only a split-second to duck or dodge, Loki instead bent his knees and met Clint rather in the same manner as would one of the Alouettes of Montreal, in the football game they had all watched at Thanksgiving. Natasha, whose primary job was apparently to keep the carpet steady, grabbed Loki around the knees as Loki caught Clint by the waist, and all three of them tumbled into a solid object that turned out to be Director Fury. It was most fortunate that Fury did not react with violence, since Loki was laughing too hard to even cast a protective forcefield around them. 

"Sorry, boss," Clint said cheekily. "We just wanted to see if we could do it."

"Might be a handy technique for a sneak-attack someday," Natasha explained, with a straight face, and patted Loki, on whom she was currently sitting. "Sorry about that, you just happened to be the handiest target."

"Also, we thought you might have a higher centre of gravity than your brother," Clint added. "Hey, Thor," he added, as that individual and Steve reached down and began to sort out the tangle.

"Hey, Clint," Thor replied amiably, setting the archer on his feet and turning to brush snow from Loki. "No harm has been done?" he said, his tone making it a question. 

"None," Loki giggled. He glanced at Clint and Natasha and called, "You may look forward to my vengeance at a later date." 

"Much later," Tony advised, looking at the sky. "I have no idea what time it is, but I'm getting damn hungry." He looked around at the others. "What do you say we have one more run, and then make our way back to the house?"

The suggestion was not met with nearly as much whining as Loki might have expected, but then again he was tired and breathless himself, and so understood the fully human members of the party might be reaching the limits of their endurance. After his mistake the day before, he was disposed to be a little careful of them. 

And speaking of those of whom Loki wished to take care, as the party trudged back down the trail toward the house, he and Annie fell in beside Steve. The captain was pink-cheeked and cheerful, and it seemed wholly unnecessary to ask how he fared. 

Despite knowing Steve was of a transparently honest disposition, certainly not one to fester in hurt or resentment, Loki quietly asked anyway. 

"I'm fine, thanks Loki," Steve said, with what certainly appeared to be a genuine smile. "I'm warm enough as long as I'm moving, and I think that was the best fun I've had since I, since I woke up. Since before the war, actually." His glance included Annie. "Thank you both for the encouragement."

Loki smiled back, feeling ridiculously a little warmer yet, and they walked in companionable silence back to the house. 

~oOo~

It was beginning to occur to Loki that he really should adjust his usual routine of beginning his morning with a bath or shower: this was the second day in a row that he had instead needed the bath in the middle of the day, after some energetic activity. Also, he was running through his clean clothing at a remarkable rate, and foresaw the requirement to do laundry before much more time had passed. 

However, he was too hungry to worry about that right now, and besides was not yet out of clean undergarments. Resolving to ask Tony later about the location of laundry facilities, Loki betook himself back downstairs to join the others. 

He found Annie, Scamp, and the kittens in the kitchen, helping Mrs. Coulson make the marinara sauce. 

"I'm so glad you told me," Mrs. Coulson was saying as he entered. "I nearly always put garlic in tomato sauce, and I'd hate to make anyone sick."

"It's not exactly an allergy," Annie was saying, as she mashed the contents of a can of tomatoes. "But he does feel quite uncomfortable when he eats it by mistake, so we try to be careful." 

"Very wise of you," Mrs. Coulson agreed, and looked up to smile at Loki. 

"May I offer my assistance?" Loki asked. Marinara sauce was one of the first Midgardian foods Annie had taught him to prepare, and besides he found he enjoyed participating in making meals. 

"Would you mind chopping some more onions?" Mrs. Coulson requested. "We're going to need quite a batch of sauce for a group this size."

"With pleasure," Loki replied, carrying the onions and a sharp knife to the sink to peel them under running water. 

The sauce was bubbling gently away in a large pot when the others began to gather, and Agent Coulson took over the business of making the spaghetti. Pepper gently organized the remainder of the group into setting places at the table. This took some work, since most of them looked badly in need of a nap and were not exactly focusing.

"You know what, guys," Tony said, as he set a basket of bread rolls at each end of the table, "I seem to have forgotten to set aside a specific time for Yule observances. Loki and Thor, I'm so sorry. What do you say to lighting the Yule log tonight, and having mulled wine and ginger cookies while we decorate the tree?"

Loki glanced sideways at Thor as Tony spoke. It had of course been some time since Loki had celebrated Yule-- his banishment from Asgard had ended only the previous summer, and he had really not had the heart to suggest holding any observances in Bristol before that. Not when they would only remind him of a home he could no longer claim, and which surely felt itself well rid of him.

Yule could be a boisterous and noisy time of year, which Loki often enjoyed as much as anyone. But when they were very young children, Thor and Loki had been allowed to sit up in their parents' private quarters, drinking a very weak concoction of cider, water, and spices that approximated the adults' mulled wine, and eating special ginger biscuits made only at that time of year. Those were his favourite memories of Yule, feeling his eyes grow heavy as he leaned for once against his mother instead of a nurse, watching flames dance on the king's private Yule log. He recalled fighting not to fall asleep, because he knew he would awaken back in the nursery.

There was no way Tony could have known any of this, unless Thor had told him. And there was no reason for Thor to know these were the elements Loki would have chosen to include. Loki wondered whether, after speaking to Thor, Tony had chosen them because of their simplicity, or whether Thor also remembered those moments with especial fondness, and had told Tony so. 

"That sounds very pleasant, Tony," Loki said now. "Thank you."

"Great," Tony said, with a relieved smile. "We've got some beautiful hardwood, I hope we can find a good Yule log."

"I have no doubt," Thor spoke up, also smiling. 

"Good," Tony repeated, and glanced toward the kitchen. "Looks like the food's ready, so let's get our plates and then we can hold the Airing of Grievances."

The food was perfect, in Loki's mind, the sauce having a wonderful rich taste of tomato and basil that was complemented with a little grated Parmesan cheese. He had not realized quite how hungry he was until his plate was before him. 

Everyone else seemed to feel the same way, and so there was a period of near-silence in which everyone concentrated on their meals. Although he was doing his best to support every aspect of these celebrations, Loki really was in no hurry for the Airing of Grievances to begin: he felt much too contented to think of anything to complain about. And really, what had he to criticize, with a home and friends, and kittens rubbing against his ankles, and everyone here making such a point to ensure he felt included?

Tony, however, refused to skip this most important observance, and as the nominal head of the household, he exercised his right to begin. 

"I have a grievance against the sponsors of Formula One telecasts," he proclaimed. "Other sports, they have breaks for the broadcast to go to commercials. With F1, the announcers can be in the middle of explaining why, why Red Bull's called Vettel in to change tires early, or something, and in the middle of a sentence the broadcast goes to a commercial and the race ends up this little muted box in the corner of the screen, so you miss the explanation and you can't see the race properly no matter how big your TV is. And you always come back to the broadcast to find out something really exciting happened that you couldn't see, and they've already finished showing the replays. It's _infuriating._ " 

Oh, well, if this was the sort of grievance they were meant to air-- 

"I also find that frustrating," Loki agreed. And then he thought of something of his own. "I have a grievance against those who make packaging for scissors, which-- ostensibly for safety reasons-- are made of solid plastic that would challenge the most accomplished sorcerer to escape. The packages are almost impossible to open without extremely sharp and sturdy scissors, which you do not have because that is the reason you are purchasing scissors in the first place. I have no idea how mortals resolve this dilemma."

"How do _you_ resolve it?" Agent Hill asked. 

"I? Oh, I know a useful spell that encourages the scissors to chew their own way out," Loki explained recklessly. If Mrs. Coulson already knew he was an alien, she probably also knew he was a sorcerer. "The only difficulty is, they are sometimes feeling rather cranky and difficult by the time they escape."

There was rather a pause after this revelation, which made Loki worry that he had gone too far. And then Jane began to giggle, which set off first Pepper and Annie and then everyone else. And then Jane took her turn to inveigh against the iniquities of grant-awarding agencies which insist on the electronic submission of forms that must be printed and filled out by hand, and then turned once more into a digital format to be attached to an email, instead of providing a version that could be filled out and submitted in a single step. 

"Seriously, it would be faster to send them by owl!" she insisted. 

"If you're serious about that, Loki would probably help you out," George spoke up. 

Bruce had a similar grievance against the administration of universities, fortunately not one that made him angry. Everyone managed to find a minor complaint that made the others laugh, particularly Thor, who thought the manufacturers of toasters should put sturdier control levers on their products, so that innocent persons merely wishing for a nice slice of toast or a warm Pop-Tart would not find the said lever snapping off in their hands under _practically no pressure at all._

"We do go through more toasters than your average family," Tony agreed. "Is that everybody?" He looked around, as Clint got up to collect empty plates to carry to the kitchen. "Yes? Okay, then. I think this concludes our Festivus observ-- "

Tony's remark was cut short when Clint, who was walking behind his chair, set his stack of plates on the sideboard, grabbed Tony around the neck and shoulder, and flipped him deftly-- and remarkable gently-- out of his chair onto the floor on his back, then knelt on him. 

Smiling cheerfully down at the pinned head of the household, Clint practically sang, 

"No, I think _this_ concludes our observances. Happy Festivus, everybody." 

"Happy Festivus, Clint," Tony replied, with remarkable aplomb. "Now let me up, you idiot."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we have decorations, and Yule, and oh look, feels.
> 
>  **Warnings:** For deliberately mangled Yule traditions.

Tony was not much ruffled by the manner in which Festivus had ended, although he did promise Clint that his vengeance, when he got around to it, would be terrible. Clint pointed out that he was already under threat of... something... from the God of Mischief--

"Rhinoceroses, probably," Mitchell told him. 

"Yeah," George agreed. "I know they say that if you hear hoofbeats you should look for horses, not zebras, but I think it would be a good idea for you to watch out for rhinoceroses."

\-- which rendered menaces from Iron Man rather less terrifying than they might otherwise have seemed. 

(Actually, Clint said none of those things, at least not in those words-- his own were rather more pungently colourful-- but his meaning was perfectly clear.)

It was much later, after a supper of sandwiches and potato crisps and a great deal of dallying in the kitchen, when Thor and Steve went outside to fetch the tree. They carried it around the house to bring it inside through the big front door, and thence into the formal living room to the left of the entry hall. Loki was a little sorry it could not go in the gathering room with the television, where they all liked to sit, but that would certainly crowd the room to the extent that gathering there would no longer be possible anyway. 

And besides, the addition of the tree to the grand room made it feel surprisingly cozy. Steve was very careful to position it at a safe distance from the huge fireplace, but he still seemed pleased by Loki's offer to place a charm of protection against fire on the tree. As Loki had already intended to place a charm of protection against climbing by kittens on it, adjusting the spell a little was not too difficult. 

While this was happening, Jane had taken over the kitchen, from which a most enticing smell was now issuing forth. Loki could not resist investigating.

"Where did you learn the secrets of mulled wine?" he asked from the doorway, as he watched Jane lean over a pot on the stove, in which she was combining wine with a variety of seasonings. 

"It's an old family recipe of Erik Selvig's," Jane explained. "He calls it _glögg_. It seemed easier to bring it along than for Thor to ask the cooks in Asgard for their recipe." 

Particularly, Loki thought, since the recipe might be only reluctantly shared. It would not even be _sharing_ at all, really: if the crown prince asked, no matter how respectfully, it was not for a servant to refuse him. Loki wondered whether Thor had thought of that, whether this was the real explanation for his decision not to ask. Once, Thor would not have considered the possibility that servants felt as much obligation as affection for the golden prince, or served him as a duty rather than because it was their greatest wish. Affection and obligation went both ways, and Loki knew this woman was, in large part, the reason his brother now realized as much. 

He smiled at Jane, sniffing the combined scents of red wine and brandy, cinnamon and cloves, and all the other ingredients that certainly smelled like the true recipe from the kitchens of Asgard.

"Well, I am very grateful to Dr. Selvig for sharing it with us. It smells like... like the old days." 

"I'm glad," Jane said, smiling back. She declined his offer of assistance, and Loki wandered back out to join the others around the tree.

Pepper had taken charge of the decorations, was marshaling everyone's efforts with an organizational ability and calm good temper that made Loki think she was wasted as CEO of Stark Industries-- admittedly, he was unsure what a "CEO" actually _did_ \-- when she was so clearly suited to teach small children. It would be rude to Tony to suggest as much, and certainly her skills must also be of great value to his company in that mysterious role, so Loki said nothing except to ask how he might assist. 

Tony and Steve had already put strings of clear lights on the tree, which would be very pretty indeed when lit in the darkened room. And the home-made ornaments crafted the day before really were beautiful: brightly festive and, in the case of the fruit slices, having a very pleasing scent. Loki was not the only one surreptitiously sniffing at them as he lifted them out of their containers. 

The strings of popcorn and dried cranberries went on first, draped carefully over the branches until they looked like snowflakes interspersed with deep red gems. Then there were the slices of orange, lemon, and lime, carefully dried and brushed with a layer of preservative, with bright red ribbons to attach them to the tree. Loki handled them with care, following the directions of Annie and Pepper to hang them on the upper branches that were hard for some of the others to reach. 

Tony had found a stepladder, and at Pepper's urging he climbed up to add his old handmade ornaments at strategic points around the tree. He finally climbed down and looked at the results, an arm around Pepper and an expression on his face that was... 

That was enough to send most of the group, including Loki and Annie, searching for something else to do for a little while. Loki found Thor, Mitchell, George, and Fury outside in the darkness, putting up coloured lights and hanging wreaths on the doors and windows. He bundled himself into boots and his heavy coat, and he and Annie went to help. 

"You really did beautiful work on these," George remarked, admiring the fluffy wreaths and the red velvet bows that adorned them. 

"Glad you think so," Fury replied. "I hope you still feel that way when you're hanging out an upstairs window by your feet." 

"Wha-a-- ?" George squeaked. 

"You're the smallest," Fury replied relentlessly. " _And_ you've got full depth perception. Someone's gotta decorate the upstairs windows. I'm sure Thor'll hang onto your ankles." 

"Sadly," said Thor, "I have... promised Jane to... help her with something." Everyone looked at him. Loki had recently come to understand that his brother was perhaps not as incapable of lies as he had once believed, but he was not generally quite so obvious as this. Thor smiled innocently and excused himself. 

Loki watched him go, then turned to George. "I will hold you," he promised.

"How strong are your hands?" George demanded. 

"I'm sure he'll also use some magic," Mitchell said cheerfully. 

"That is probably a better idea," Loki agreed, grinning at George. A moment later, the wreaths, as well as the hooks meant to hold them, were flying through the air and attaching themselves to the sills below the upstairs windows. They really did look very nice, if Loki said so himself.

"Huh. Well, that was a lot simpler than what I had in mind," Fury remarked neutrally, as he watched. Paused. "Not as much fun, of course." 

When they came back inside the house, there were more decorations in the hallways and on the stair railings-- many evergreen branches, some colourful spheres, and a little bit of greenery dangling mysteriously in the doorway to the room where the tree was located. As they passed through the door, Annie reached up to kiss Loki on the cheek, which was unexpected but always welcome. 

Most of the group was by now sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, looking at the tree like a lot of children, while Jane, Rhodey, and Bruce carried in trays holding mugs of steaming mulled wine. Loki took his, smiling at Jane as he cradled the mug in his hands, inhaling the scent of memories. 

A moment later Thor walked in, carrying what looked like the Asgardian equivalent of what would, in England, be called a biscuit tin. Before Loki could indulge his own curiosity by asking what it contained, his brother lifted off the lid and leaned down toward him. 

The tin was filled with careful layers of thin, crispy, deep-brown, gingery-smelling biscuits, cut out in the shapes of little suns. Loki blinked, for a moment unable to even reach for one. When Tony had promised them "ginger cookies," he had assumed they would be some pleasant modern Midgardian recipe. Not--

"I asked the cooks if they would make these a few days early, so that I might bring them," Thor explained. "Since you have not had any in so long."

"Oh," Loki managed, finally helping himself to one of the fragile little shapes, and unsure for a moment whether he would even be able to eat it. "Thank you, brother." 

"The head cook said she was glad to do it for you," Thor replied. 

"Ingunn," Loki said. When she was a subordinate in the kitchen she had been very patient with little boys sneaking in to filch sweetmeats. Loki thought she would probably have been so even if they had not been princes. 

Loki sat holding his biscuit while Thor offered them around to the others. A little later, Tony and Steve staggered in under the weight of a heavy hardwood log, and Loki laughed automatically at Tony's histrionics, joining in the cheers when Natasha coaxed a brave little flame from the tinder that surrounded it in the fireplace. It was only when Thor came and sat beside him that he finally nibbled at one of the rays of the little sun in his hand. 

"The first year was the worst," Thor said quietly, without looking at him. Everyone else seemed focused on trying to will the fire to burn, and paid no attention to the brothers. Loki said nothing, and Thor went on, "The observances went on, of course, and Father had to make appearances, but Mother scarcely left her quarters until Yule was over. It was a little better, when we knew you were alive after all, but… there was such an empty place, where you used to be, when we thought you could never return."

Loki still did not speak, was not sure he could. This was, of course, the first Yuletide celebration since his exile had ended, and he did not really know why he had not thought to ask if he might come home for it. It was not that he was waiting to be invited. He just… so many things had seemed lost to him for such a time…

Still looking at their friends crowded around the fireplace, Thor said,

"There will yet be a few days of the Yule season left, when this celebration is over. Would you come and spend them with us?"

Wordlessly, the world turned into a shimmer before his eyes, Loki nodded. Thor put an arm around him. 

~oOo~

The log finally began to burn with confidence, perhaps encouraged by all the solicitous eyes upon it. All the mulled wine was drunk, and the biscuits eaten-- even Loki had finally consented to consume his, instead of sit and hold it. It was very late indeed when Mrs. Coulson, seated in an armchair instead of on the floor, surrendered her empty mug to the attentive Clint and stretched in a ladylike fashion. 

"I think it’s time I told you all goodnight," she said, beginning to rise. 

Tony glanced urgently at Thor, who spoke.

"Actually, Mrs. Coulson," he said, "I wonder... would you-- would all of you-- indulge my brother and me in one final ritual tonight?" 

Everyone looked at Thor, and then at Loki-- who looked back with what must have been a perfectly blank stare, like a little man made of gingerbread. He then turned to his brother, who smiled at him and went on, 

"Tony has very kindly given us-- well, given _me_ \-- permission-- "

"Thor," said Loki, "you are never suggesting that we hold the _bonfire?"_

Thor smiled more broadly. "Well, yes, brother. That is exactly what I am suggesting." 

There was a pause, and then Clint said, in a loud whisper, 

"I suppose it'd be too much to hope for marshmallows?"

~oOo~

"The bonfire is lit in the darkest and coldest time of the year, as a way of encouraging the sun to return to us," Thor explained to the bundled-up group. They were in the field behind the storage building, standing in a semi-circle, next to a large and elaborate structure of wood that certainly explained what Thor had been up to while Loki was hanging wreaths on the upstairs windows. 

"On the longest night of the year?" asked Pepper, who would like to be accurate. 

"As nearly as can be managed," Thor replied. "We light the fire and... I suppose you would say we hold a vigil, to ensure the sun finds a welcome and will therefore continue to rise for another year." He smiled. "It is a ritual carried over from a far more superstitious time, but I confess as a child I fully believed that if there was no bonfire in Midwinter, the sun would take offense and would not rise again. My friends and I would sneak out to watch, long before we were allowed to be out so late."

"I would do the same," Loki said quietly. He had been at pains not to be seen by the other children, skulking around unwanted, but he had slipped out every year until he was old enough to come openly. The servants who saw him had never given him away. 

"I wondered," was all Thor said now. "And now I wonder, brother, whether you would be kind enough to light the fire for us?"

"With pleasure," Loki replied, and cast a bolt of flame into the middle of the structure. Thor had taken care to choose old fence rails and discarded boards-- dry wood eager to burst into devouring flames that sparked and reached and lifted their hands to the sky. 

It was a cold night, but they were not cold here at the fire, and the whole company stood as though mesmerized, as though the fire was a live thing whose company they were glad to keep. Loki narrowed his eyes against the heat and the glare, and stood almost dreaming as the fire roared and danced and called out.

It might have been his dazzled eyes, but it seemed there was the hint of pink on the eastern horizon when Loki finally spoke up regretfully, 

"It seems wrong not to sing the sun back, does it not?"

"You sing?" asked Agent Coulson. Loki nodded, and Thor said,

"It was always one of my favourite parts of the bonfire. Our father, and our friend Volstagg, have especially fine deep singing voices. I wish-- "

"Can't you still sing without them?" Bruce asked. 

Thor shrugged, resigned. "It is not so much missing them as-- The whole company would join in, and that was the power in it. It would not be the same with only us two, and I did not think to teach you all the songs." He glanced at Loki. "I apologize for the oversight, brother." Loki reached out, took his mittened hand and squeezed it. 

"That's too bad," said Hill, sounding genuinely sorry. 

They all stood a while longer, looking at the fire. 

And then from Loki's left, past Annie and George, Mitchell's voice was heard:

_"Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter,  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here-- "_

Loki, Annie and George, joined him:

_"Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
And I say, it's all right-- "_

One by one, the other voices were lifted-- all of them, Mrs. Coulson's, Thor's, everyone's:

_"Little darling, the smiles returning to their faces,  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here-- "_

Without conscious thought, Loki reached out, felt Annie take his left hand and Thor his right:

_"Here comes the sun, here comes the sun  
And I say, it's all right."_

In the east, the pink was beginning to turn into gold, and a sliver of pure light crawled over the horizon:

_"Sun, sun, sun, here it comes.  
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes-- "_

Loki closed his eyes and tilted his head back as the sinking heat of the dying fire dried his cheeks, and his voice mixed with the others raised in welcome:

_"Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting,_  
 _Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear._  
 _Here comes the sun, here comes the sun_  
 _And I say, it's all right._  
 _It's all right."_

When he opened his eyes again, the fire was down to embers, and the sun was openly peeking over the horizon, apparently satisfied with the hospitality it had been offered. Thor released Loki's and Jane's hands and made a bow in its direction before turning back to their friends. 

"I believe, my friends, our efforts have been crowned with success for one more year. Thank you, Mitchell, for the song." He looked around at everyone. "And thank you all for indulging my brother and myself. We have certainly trespassed on your patience, and now it is Christmas Eve."

Tony cleared his throat. "I don't know about anyone else, but I certainly don't mind. A little nap before breakfast might be in order, though."

There were murmurs of assent. Loki quietly suppressed what was left of the fire, and they all trooped back into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note:** Thank you to the reader on LiveJournal (who I hope speaks up if they're reading here) who suggested the bonfire. That reader also offered some wonderful suggestions for appropriate songs, which you can find on YouTube by searching "Ronja Rövardotter Sanger". I couldn't use them here because they're not intended to be sung by only two people. Instead, I borrowed the best welcoming-the-sun-back song I could think of that was likely to be known by people living in English-speaking countries--with love and thanks to George Harrison.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which something crops up that everyone should have thought of already, and superheroes and their allies have a pronounced domestic bent.
> 
> **Warnings:** Having a houseparty for this many people produces a considerable amount of work for everyone. Keep that in mind next time you decide to invite twenty superheroes to stay.

They entered the house through the back door, via the enclosed porch and the kitchen, then all of them began to disperse up the staircases to the bedrooms. Loki embraced his brother, and also Jane, and watched them start up the stairs. Then he and Annie made their way to the other end of the ground floor, to the foot of the staircase that led to their own room. 

"We'll see you-- later, I guess," Annie said to Mitchell and George, who had accompanied them even though their rooms were up the same staircase as Thor and Jane's. Their friends nodded.

"But I must find Philip and Elizabeth first," Loki remembered. He looked up. "JARVIS? Are the kittens-- ?"

"They are in the formal living room, sir," the AI replied. "They appear to be admiring the tree."

"Really?" Loki asked. "Thank you, JARVIS." 

He and Annie peeped through the door, and found Philip and Elizabeth sitting before the tree like two furry little angels, their heads tilted in fascination and their tails wrapped primly around their toes. Loki was perfectly aware they were almost certainly wishing for the charm against climbing to disappear, but still they presented a most appealing picture, one that reminded him very much of the greeting cards exchanged by humans at this time of year.

"What do you think, little ones?" he whispered. Elizabeth turned her head and made a little trilling response, then squeaked as Loki picked her and her brother up. 

"We can come and look at it again later," Annie said, scratching the two little heads. "But now it's time for bed."

When they walked out of the room they were all four surprised to find George and Mitchell hanging around the foot of the stairs, looking uncomfortable. 

"Are you all right?" Annie asked, puzzled. George glanced at Mitchell, who fidgeted in a way that was not like him at all. Loki, for reasons he did not entirely understand, handed him Philip, who climbed up Mitchell's shoulder and purred in his ear. 

"Mitchell," Loki pitched his voice quite softly, "what is the matter?"

Mitchell bounced Philip gently against his shoulder, as one might a baby-- Philip clutched at his shirt and mewed a complaint-- and finally muttered, 

"I'm just a little... it's not that I'm not having fun. I am. I'm enjoying myself, really. Especially when we're outside." Loki raised his eyebrows: he had not realized Mitchell was a devotee of outdoor sports, and he still did not quite understand what Mitchell was trying to say. And then, looking terribly ashamed, Mitchell admitted, "It's just... I'm used to it just being us. And I like everyone here, they're wonderful, but... they're _humans."_

George winced, Annie's eyes widened, and Loki struggled to keep his expression calm. 

"Mitchell, do you mean you are-- ?" 

"I'm having a little trouble," Mitchell mumbled. "I should have realized I would, but... The last time we and the Avengers were all together, we were so focused on-- well, _not dying_ \-- that I didn't really have time to think about... And my room is-- it's beautiful, but at night I'm all by myself in a house full of humans and I can't stop _thinking_ \-- I can _feel them_ \-- "

"I thought he could move in with me," George said, looking sideways at Mitchell and trying to pretend he was less concerned than he was. 

"That's an idea," Annie agreed, slowly. She glanced at Loki, who knew they were thinking the same thing. 

"You could both come join us," he offered. "If it would help." 

Mitchell looked utterly miserable. "I don't want to ruin your-- "

Loki shook his head, and Annie spoke up quickly, "No. It's actually-- we miss you, too. And if it would help you, it'll make us feel better, too."

Mitchell grimaced. "I'm so sorry-- "

"Stop," George ordered. "We don't have the water bottle with us and it's too far to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. You're doing your best, you haven't done anything wrong, and we all help each other. That's what were here for. That's why we're together."

"Aww," said Annie. 

"Umm," said Mitchell. 

"Silvertongue," said Loki, with a smile at George. 

"Why don't you go get in your pajamas and come join us?" Annie repeated. Mitchell looked uneasily at Loki. It was quite apparent that, in addition to feeling anxiety and shame about his... condition... he was reluctant to intrude upon them. 

Loki smiled at him. "Annie and I have been telling each other, the bed in our room is at least as large as the one in my old chambers in Asgard. And you recall, we were all quite comfortable sleeping together there." He paused as he remembered the next morning, and amended, "Well, except of course for the uncomfortable after-effects of drink, which will not be of concern to us now." He turned his attention to Elizabeth. "There should even be room for the two of you, should there not? And Scamp."

"But you won't want-- " Mitchell argued feebly. "I mean, you must-- "

Annie raised an eyebrow, then said forthrightly, "I'm still not exactly corporeal, as Loki puts it, so there's a limit to how much you'd be interrupting anyway." Both George and Mitchell flushed a deep, rich red-- even Loki went rather pink-- and Annie giggled. "That gave you something else to think about, didn't it?" Sobering, she said, "Maybe tonight you and George will go back to the other side of the house and bunk together, but if you're tired and feeling... vulnerable... right now-- " Loki could only approve her choice of wording, although considering the presence in the house of a number of sleeping, non-superpowered humans-- one an elderly lady-- and a vampire who had been trustingly _invited in,_ one could argue the designation applied to more than just poor Mitchell-- "it's probably best if you're with all of us."

Mitchell gave in with an expression of relief. "Okay. Where can we find you?"

"Up these stairs, at the end of the hall on the left," Loki said, gesturing. "We will leave the door open."

"Thanks," Mitchell said, with real gratitude. George's expression, when he turned to follow Mitchell, reflected the same emotion. 

~oOo~

George and Mitchell appeared in a remarkably short time, Mitchell in a t-shirt and pajama trousers that Loki suspected had been borrowed from George, and a woolen robe that was the twin of the one in Loki and Annie's wardrobe, except for being blue and grey instead of green and grey. George was of course in his own pajamas and robe.

There was more than enough room in bed for all of them-- really, it was enough to make one wonder what sort of activities Tony expected his guests to engage in, to require so much space-- and Mitchell permitted himself to be ushered into the middle. 

"If you need to go wee, you'll just have to crawl over Loki or me," George announced. 

"When did you become so obsessed with wee?" Loki yawned, pulling up the warm heavy covers as he settled down between Mitchell and Annie. Scamp, of course, chose a spot beside Annie, but Philip and Elizabeth walked back and forth for a little while before curling up on top of Loki as usual. 

"Thanks, guys," Mitchell said, very close to Loki's left ear, and his tone was such a combination of gratitude and humility that Loki edged closer, mumbling, 

"We should have thought of this before we came. I am sorry, Mitchell. We all admire you for your strength, but we should not take it for granted." George muttered something in agreement that sounded as if he was nearly asleep already.

There was a distinct smell of wood smoke on their hair and skin, and Loki thought vaguely that the time for laundry had indeed arrived: the bedclothes would surely absorb the smell, and it would be less pleasant when stale. Then the thought left him as, despite his position between two rather chilly presences, Loki felt himself sink into the warmth of slumber. 

~oOo~

Loki was aware at one point of Mitchell snuggled up to him-- or perhaps he was snuggled up to Mitchell-- and he woke briefly when Mitchell and George crawled out of bed some time later. He did not truly wake until the light in the room confirmed it was near midday. His hair now smelled rather unpleasantly of stale smoke, and so, despite not knowing what activities the day would hold, Loki once again began it with a shower. The status of his wardrobe, or at least the availability of undergarments, was finally becoming critical. As he stepped out of the shower, Loki resolved to ask Tony the location of--

The ridiculousness of the idea struck him before he had finished thinking it. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling and asked, 

"JARVIS? May I trouble you to determine the location of laundry facilities?"

"Certainly, sir." The AI was silent while Loki dried and dressed himself, but as he left the bathroom, the cool voice announced, "The laundry room is on the ground floor, accessible through a door in the kitchen, beyond the section that serves as a sitting room. It is equipped with an industrial-sized washer and dryer, as well as such supplies as detergent and fabric softener."

"Thank you, JARVIS," Loki said. Back in the bedroom, he retrieved his carpet-bag from the top shelf of the wardrobe. Annie stripped the bed, with a great deal of assistance from Elizabeth and Philip, who pounced repeatedly upon the moving sheets and had finally to be lifted out of the carpet-bag so that Loki could put the bundle comprising the rest of his laundry into it. 

That done, and the litter box dealt with, Loki and Annie made their way down to the ground floor. 

The kitchen smelled so appetizing, when they got there, that Loki was very tempted to delay his chore for a little longer. Steve waved from the stove, where he was frying bacon and eggs for everyone, and offered to start some for Loki. 

"What are you up to?" he asked, looking with curiosity at the carpet-bag. 

"Washing," Loki admitted. "If you would care for me to attend to yours as well-- ?"

"You don't use magic for that?" asked Clint, who was delivering a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast to Mrs. Coulson at the table. 

"Not usually," Loki replied. "We have a washing machine at home, you see." He glanced around the table, where by now everyone except Pepper and Tony was sitting. "If anyone has things to be washed, I would be happy to look after them for you." 

Judging by the response, it became evident most of the Avengers were either not skilled in that domestic art, or else tickled at the idea of having their washing done by an alien sorcerer. Mrs. Coulson demurred, but Agent Coulson fetched her washing with his own-- Loki suspected he, and probably also Steve, were quite capable of doing the chore for themselves, but they accepted the offer in the spirit in which it was made. 

Loki found the facilities exactly where JARVIS had said they would be, and started the first load of his own light-coloured items as the others brought in their own. 

Tony, who had joined them by the time Loki emerged to begin his breakfast, was not best pleased by any of this.

"Loki, you weren't invited here to _do the laundry._ How did you get talked into this?" Tony demanded.

"I have no idea," Loki shot back. "How was Steve persuaded to make everyone their breakfast?" 

Tony turned to Steve, who was still at the stove. "Egg?" the captain offered, looking self-conscious.

"Well," Tony began, and then did not seem to know how to go on.

"We are enjoying the feeling of doing things for ourselves, are we not?" Loki persisted. "I am perfectly competent to operate a clothes-washing machine. I have not had to resort to enchanting the one at home for some time now."

"He put a curse on it," George explained. "There was a sea serpent and everything."

"A very _small_ sea serpent," Loki reminded him. "And the clothes came out very clean, did they not?"

"Well, yes," George agreed. 

Tony frowned. "No sea serpents, okay?" 

"Of course not," Loki replied. "Your washing machine is not in a cellar, so the water would all run away and leave our feet wet, and the poor creature with nothing to swim in. Now, bring me your washing and I will attend to it presently."

Tony started to say something, but just at that Steve put a plate in front of Loki containing a scrambled egg, some perfectly crisp bacon, a little heap of apple slices, and a piece of fruitcake. 

"If you'd like toast, just say. Tony? Pepper? How do you like your eggs?"

Tony surrendered to the inevitable as Pepper smiled brightly at Steve and said, "Scrambled would be lovely, please."

Loki did not ordinarily begin his day with such a large cooked breakfast, at least not since he had come to Midgard-- mornings were generally hurried, and anyway he had not known how to cook for himself when he arrived, so he had adopted the custom of cold cereal and fruit described to him by Annie. However, it was now closer to lunchtime than breakfast and he was quite hungry. It also could not be denied, it was pleasant to be fussed over in this small way. He smiled his thanks at Steve and picked up his fork.

Tony dropped into a chair and looked around. "Okay, how are my other guests going to be exploited today?" 

Thor looked up from folding a piece of toast around half a fried egg and a slice of bacon. "Mrs. Coulson has promised to reveal the secrets of this meat pie, which sounds most delicious. I am to make pastry for her, and also for the fruit pies we will have for dessert tomorrow. I would ask for assistance in preparing the apples, Loki being occupied with washing."

Loki was about to point out that he would have ample time to cut fruit between cycles, but Bruce and Agent Hill spoke up to offer, and Jane seemed to assume Thor would assume she meant to assist him as well. Clint and Natasha, both of whom were singularly adept with knives, offered to help Mrs. Coulson chop the meat and potatoes for her pie. 

"I haven't seen any eggnog around here," Fury remarked. "Think I'll get on that, if anyone can spare me a hand with it."

"Sure," Rhodey agreed easily. 

Coulson raised his eyebrows. "This is looking like a whole lot of dirty dishes. I'll stay on top of that."

"I'll help," George offered. "How about you, Mitchell?"

Mitchell grimaced as he considered his least favourite household chore. "Maybe I'll help Loki fold laundry."

"I'll help you, Agent Coulson," Annie offered. 

"So will I," Pepper promised. 

Tony looked around with an expression of faint nausea. "Well," he said, "isn't this homey."

Steve smiled as he set plates before him and Pepper. "It is, isn't it? Thanks for arranging it, Tony."

"Thank my dishpan hands," Tony muttered, but one did not have to be the God of Mischief to know he was not as displeased as he pretended.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** People familiar with tourtière may, as they read the first part of this chapter, be thinking, "Wait, wait, that's not how you make tourtière!" There are many kinds of meat pies referred to by that name, but-- because of the region of Quebec my grandmother came from-- I think of the Lac St. Jean variety as " tourtière," while the one filled with a variety of ground meats is just called "meat pie" in my family. Looking at various recipes for the Lac St Jean version on the Internet, I see we should probably have had them cut up the meat the day before, and left it to marinate. Sorry about that: the last couple of years when I arrived at my parents' house for Christmas Eve, the tourtière was already in the oven, so I haven't seen it made in a while. 
> 
> The church the gang is attending is [**St Anne's**](http://www.rcda.scot/parishes/highlands/thurso) in Thurso, which is part of the Diocese of Aberdeen. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Loki does not mean to be blasphemous, but he and I apologize if we offend anyone. The gang is attending a Catholic church because that's what I know.

The original kitchen of this house had been large to begin with, and had apparently been renovated several times over the years to reflect contemporary standards for food preparation and the comfort of domestics. The most recent work had been commissioned by Tony, who would be the first to admit he had focused on what _could_ be accomplished, as opposed to what reflected his requirements in a house he only visited occasionally, and almost always alone. 

As a result, the kitchen—like that in the New York country house-- was equipped to cater for groups numbering a score or more, as if Tony had it in mind to hold corporate retreats here. (Which he most definitely did not.) The renovation work had represented grandiosity for its own sake, a golden-horned helmet of a kitchen, to ensure everyone who entered it knew what manner of man owned it. 

A lonely one, Loki thought, as he sat on the sofa in the corner of what amounted to the staff lounge, matching socks-- white athletic socks belonging to Clint-- into pairs and piling them neatly with the rest of the archer's clean and folded garments. Lonely, and perhaps with fantasies of one day having trusted, beloved companions enough to justify such a space. 

And see how his wishes had finally come true.

In spite of his grumbles about exploitation and forced labour, Tony took on his own share of the work with what appeared to be a willing spirit. Loki had to impress upon him the importance of separating colours from whites, and Agent Coulson the necessity of dealing with the glassware before immersing the greasy bacon pan, but Tony did not argue with either of them. He muttered about the possibility of employing lasers to simplify both tasks, but so far as Loki could tell he was not serious. 

It turned out Thor was wise to ask assistance of someone other than Loki with the pies, because between setting up the machines and folding dry garments, Loki had not sufficient hands to help with food preparations after all. And after boasting of his domestic skills, he really did not want to do the job with divided attention and ruin some piece of clothing prized by one of his companions. 

Washing at home was a simpler matter, but even so in those early days Loki had received careful instructions from Annie on the advisability of heeding labels, especially those which recommended the hanging of items to dry. Of course, he no longer feared expulsion from the household, to starve and freeze all alone, if he accidentally destroyed a garment. That much had been made clear to him early in his tenure in Bristol, after a wool jumper of George's had been reduced to child-sized in the dryer, and Loki then without recovered magic enough to reverse the process. He would have hidden it and denied all knowledge of the matter, if Annie had not been present when he unloaded the dryer. He did not think his friends knew even yet just how deeply he had dreaded George's reaction-- which after all his fears had amounted to a muttered "Argh," and then matter-of-fact acceptance of Loki's anxious offer to provide a replacement. 

That still did not mean he wished to ruin anything. It was far too cold to hang wet clothing out-of-doors, and besides everyone would wish to reclaim their belongings as soon as possible. Loki therefore set aside everything that required air-drying, to deal with as he had time. Finished with Clint's socks, he picked up a blouse belonging to Mrs. Coulson, held it at arms-length, and concentrated. 

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, glancing over at a crucial moment. 

"A simple drying spell," Loki explained, laying the finished blouse carefully aside.

Bruce looked more impressed than such a mundane bit of magic warranted. "What does it-- I mean, can you explain how it works?" He made a little grimace as he added, "I mean, I know I probably wouldn't understand the principles behind it-- " it was clear from his face, and Jane's, how that knowledge ground at them-- "but just the basic mechanism."

Loki picked up a cashmere pullover of Pepper's, one that had required the _Delicate_ setting, and explained as best he could:

"It is the simplest version of such a spell-- all I am doing is drawing the wet into myself."

 _"All,"_ Bruce echoed, glancing ruefully down the table at Jane, who made a humourous grimace in return. Loki had by now enough experience of these humans to know they were not making sport of him, and he tried to clarify his explanation. 

"Any spell that banishes something, even as simple as moisture, must send it somewhere else. As I say, the most straightforward way of dealing with it is to pull it into the spell-caster, especially something harmless like water." He offered a little smile as he folded the dry, soft pullover. "And before you ask, Tony-- yes, I will need to visit the lavatory at regular intervals as I perform this spell."

"I wasn't going to ask," Tony protested, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. It was clear from his expression that he had at least been wondering. 

Loki was certainly not the only busy person in this room, which was why he (and Mitchell, much of the time) had taken up station on the sofa, out of the way and yet able to see and talk to everyone else. The rest of the company were engaged in food preparation. Mrs. Coulson had taken on a mostly supervisory role, as Clint and Natasha worked zealously to produce little cubes of meat and potato to her exacting specifications. 

"It's especially important for the potatoes to be cut fine, so they cook at the same rate as the meat," she explained. Agent Coulson had been drafted to prepare a broth to add to the meat and potatoes, once Thor's pastry was ready, and the pie was then to bake for several hours in a large roasting pan. 

"Like this?" asked Clint, displaying a heap of potato cubes to her inspection. Mrs. Coulson examined and approved. Clint was not quite able to conceal his pleasure at her approbation. 

Tony, restless as ever, had disappeared from the kitchen with Steve and Pepper in tow. They returned a short time later, Scamp and the kittens trailing behind and Steve carefully carrying another of the cardboard boxes from the attic. He came into the lounge area and set it down on the floor in front of the sofa. Loki pulled up his feet to sit cross-legged so as to give the others more room. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"What have you there?" he asked. It was only when Mitchell giggled that Loki realized he and the kittens were certainly looking at the box with exactly the same expressions of avid curiosity. Face warming, he sat back a little, coaxing the kittens to his lap.

Tony glanced at him and smiled. "I don't know if you're familiar with record albums?" 

"Yes," Loki said, leaning forward eagerly again and hugging the kittens. "Mitchell has some." They were, according to Annie, an archaic means of storing recorded music, but Mitchell clung to his even when he possessed the same music in more modern formats. Some of Mitchell's record albums dated back to before Steve Rogers' war. 

"So did my parents, when we used to come here," Tony said, and shook his head. "And I'm afraid I didn't inherit my musical tastes from either of them. This, my friends, is a box of the purest Christmas cheese."

Mitchell reached past him and pulled several of the records out to look at their covers. He flipped through them and began to laugh. 

"You're not kidding, are you? Bing Crosby-- "

"Really? People still listened to Bing Crosby when you were a kid, Tony?" Steve asked, sounding thrilled. 

"-- Nana Mouskouri-- _Roger Whittaker? Really?"_ Mitchell grinned at Tony. "I should have realized you were the sentimental kind."

"Hey, I didn't buy any of these," Tony argued, trying to sound defensive. 

"No," Mitchell said, "but I notice you also didn't hide them someplace and pretend they don't exist." 

By now the others were gathering round to see what else was in the box. Steve pulled out another record.

"Mario Lanza," he read, frowning thoughtfully, and flipped it over to read the track listing. "'Joy To the World,' 'O Christmas Tree,' 'The Lord's Prayer'-- hey, does anybody mind if we listen to this one?"

"Not me," said Mitchell, when he saw Steve's eyes on him. "I've always liked Lanza."

"That is a wonderful album," Mrs. Coulson agreed. "Such a beautiful voice."

Tony gently snatched the record away from Steve. "Sorry, this is for tomorrow morning. First thing, I promise. Anyone see anything they'd like to play right now?" 

Bruce had picked out the Bing Crosby record. "I know this is the ultimate Christmas cliché, but-- seriously, guys, I'd love to listen to this one." 

"I've got no objection to that," Steve replied. "I saw him on a USO tour during the war. I didn't know he had a Christmas record."

Even Loki found that hard to believe. Clint, ever blunt, asked what everyone was wondering:

"So what have you been doing for Christmas since you woke up?"

Steve shrugged, embarrassed. "Well, last year I went to church and then pretty much spent the rest of the day trying not to think about… everybody. By which I mean, I spent the rest of the day thinking about everybody. Tony, I can't tell you how grateful I am that you thought of this gathering, and that you invited me. I was really dreading another Christmas like last year."

"Yeah," Bruce said. "I was planning to say it a little more privately, but… Yes. Thank you." Clint mumbled something that sounded like agreement, and most of the others nodded. 

Tony glanced around, looking cornered. Opened his mouth, and closed it. 

And then he took the record from Bruce's hands and fled from the kitchen. A moment later, the strains of a smooth deep voice, singing "Silent Night," could be heard from the speakers most commonly used by JARVIS when he addressed them. 

Everyone waited. Tony did not return.

After a little while, Pepper quietly excused herself and left the kitchen. 

~oOo~

Tony seemed quite recovered, when he finally reappeared, although Loki was at some pains not to look very closely at his eyes. 

The eggnog was ready by that time, one batch with rum and one without. Loki tried a sip of each and then, because Midgardian alcohol had so little effect on him anyway, opted for the rum-free version. He was joined in that by Mitchell (for the same reason), Steve (for the same reason), Bruce (not for the same reason), Mrs. Coulson, and, rather surprisingly to Loki, Natasha. Fury and Rhodey started another vat of the drink as everyone else went back to their work. 

The eggnog with rum was deservedly popular. It was therefore no surprise that, as work progressed and the smells of baking permeated the kitchen, the mood within became increasingly festive. It was only a matter of time before singing broke out, which it did when a tune began to play about an animate snowman named Frosty. Despite suspecting this appellation might be applied to him in the near future-- possibly the next time Tony or Clint had a little too much to drink, which given the state of the eggnog probably translated as "any moment now"-- Loki did not find the excessively cheerful tune unappealing. 

He did not join in the song about the bullied reindeer who finally proved himself of use to his tormenters and so gained at least conditional acceptance-- which he was aware was probably not the message the writer of the lyric intended, but Loki could not help himself, he cordially hated the song. However, "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town"-- a song Loki had never particularly cared for-- was another matter entirely. Now that it reminded him of Annie putting Owen in his place, he had to stifle his laughter at the line "so be good, for goodness sake." 

The most amusing thing about their kitchen sing-along was the discovery that JARVIS, when he had been installed in the house, had apparently also been programmed to know all of the words to all the songs of Christmas. It was a little disorienting to hear his voice coming out of the same speakers as the recorded music, but Loki at least found it strangely touching.

"Next up, Nana Mouskouri," Tony announced, holding up the record, his expression of facetious gusto back in place. 

"I love that name," announced Jane. "It's so much fun to say. Nana Mouskouri. Nana Moos- _koooooo_ -ri. Nah-nah Moos- _kooooorrrrrriii_ \-- "

"I think perhaps you have had enough rum and eggnog," Thor said kindly, plucking her empty glass from her hand and setting it in the sink.

Jane eyed him narrowly. "You're no fun," she said, enunciating very carefully. 

"You will thank me in the morning," Thor assured her. Jane did not look at all convinced. 

"It's nearly seven," said Steve, apparently _a propos_ of nothing. Everyone looked at him. He smiled, embarrassed. "There's a seven-thirty Mass at the Catholic church in town. I thought I might walk over-- " He trailed off, looking embarrassed, which Loki found puzzling. Surely the festival of Christmas had, at its heart, a religious significance? Why then should Steve seem apologetic about wishing to recognize that fact?

"How long a walk is it?" Mrs. Coulson asked. "I'd like to go, too." 

"Too far if you're not Captain America. Steve, if you're comfortable with the right-hand drive you're welcome to take the Rover," Tony spoke up. 

Loki, rather hesitantly, asked, "Would you permit me to join you?" Motivated solely by curiosity as he was, perhaps they would prefer he did not--

"Of course," Mrs. Coulson said warmly. 

"Can you drive?" Steve asked. 

Loki looked at Tony. "Is your car the sort with three pedals, or the other kind? I did not notice, the night we arrived."

Tony looked amused. "It's a stick. So yeah, three pedals." To the room at large, he explained, "Loki can't drive an automatic."

"I have done so," Loki protested. "I simply did not like it. I found it confusing."

"I wish I could come," Jane said mournfully. "But I think I'm too drunk for church." Loki stepped toward her and laid his right hand on the back of her neck. Jane jumped at the touch, relaxed after a moment-- and then looked startled and suddenly sober. "What did you just do?"

Loki shook his hand gently. "A variation on the charm I used earlier to dry the clothing."

Jane raised her eyebrows at him, alert once again. "You _drew the booze_ into yourself?"

"Well, the effects. More or less," Loki said, with a deprecating shrug. As she continued to look startled, he echoed his brother's words: "You will thank me in the morning."

Jane laughed. "No, I'll have a ton of questions for you in the morning. I'm thanking you right now."

~oOo~

The final churchgoing party consisted of Steve, Mrs. Coulson, Loki, Agent Hill, Thor and Jane. It was decided that everyone would have a snack now, then eat a late meal of tourtière and set out the gifts when the church party returned. 

Loki drove-- the Rover was much bigger than Mitchell's Volvo, but there was little traffic, and he parked without mishap in the churchyard. Mrs. Coulson sat in front with Loki and everyone else was rather crammed in the back, but there were no complaints.

The church, located quite near the train station, was a small building, constructed of stone, wood and glass and smelling inside of incense. There were wooden benches to sit upon, and a sanctuary and altar at the front. It was by now almost seven-thirty and Loki expected to have to sit at the back, but the rear benches were all occupied and several in front left empty. Apparently these were not reserved for anyone in particular. It seemed very peculiar that the seats at the back should be considered most desirable, but Loki was pleased indeed to be able to see the rituals properly. 

The humans taking their places made a little courtesy to the sanctuary, which Loki copied, then knelt in apparent prayer before sitting, which Loki did not. They all made a characteristic gesture, the right hand passing from forehead to heart, then across from left shoulder to right, that intrigued Loki. He turned to Mrs. Coulson, on his left, with a questioning face. She smiled and whispered,

"That's the sign of the cross-- you see the symbol of the church?" There were crosses on the steeples of many churches in Bristol, though Loki had not noticed tonight in the dark. And at the front was a most disturbing tableau, of a man on such a cross. Loki had never entered a church like this before, but he had read a little of the religious practices of this realm, enough to know there was a rather ghastly story of sacrifice attached to that figure. He hoped it would not be the focus of tonight's observances. 

Mrs. Coulson added quietly, "I won't be able to help you with most of the service-- I wanted to come to church on Christmas Eve, but I'm actually not Catholic."

"Thor and I are not, either," Loki assured her, and Mrs. Coulson stifled a laugh. 

All things considered, it was a most enjoyable service, despite moments of confusion: there was some standing and sitting, which Loki and his friends had to scramble to emulate, and it transpired the worshippers were expected to respond to some of the remarks of the celebrant, which they could not-- except for Steve and Agent Hill, who spoke up with confidence. There was also singing, and Mrs. Coulson showed Loki how the numbers posted on a sort of board at the front of the church would tell him which song to look up in the book supplied with the bench. There were no reindeer or snowmen in these songs, but calls to the faithful, joyful and triumphant, and Loki decided he preferred these, anyway. 

Later, they were read stories, clearly part of some larger narrative he did not know-- except for the third piece, read by the priest himself. Loki was startled, halfway through, to recognize the same words that had been used by the little friend of Charlie Brown, to explain the season of Christmas. He glanced around, but no one else seemed taken by surprise. It was a good story-- Loki was glad he could fill out his tax forms and send them by post, rather than having to travel to a distant city to do so, but he liked the idea of the family finding shelter in a warm stable on a cold night, and the baby and the angels and the shepherds, although it occurred to him to wonder what they had done with their sheep. 

Then the priest spoke a few words, of hope and light in the darkness of winter, and then later everyone was shaking hands with those around them and wishing them peace and the happiness of the season-- it was clear Loki and his friends were nearly the only strangers present, but those seated nearby made them feel very welcome. Thor could be heard exchanging greetings in the muffled boom that only Thor could consider suitable for indoor use, and Loki noticed the human worshippers glancing over to smile at his enthusiasm. 

Loki had no idea what was happening when the humans began to go to the front of the sanctuary, but Jane and Mrs. Coulson did not get up to join them, so Thor and Loki kept to their seats as well. It did not feel like being excluded, to sit and watch, and besides, there was more singing to listen to. Steve and Agent Hill joined the line, and came back looking thoughtful but in Agent Hill's case not at all fierce, for once in a way. Then there was another song, proclaiming joy to the world, and everyone got up to go.

There was an odd moment, as they walked toward the door, when Loki wondered whether what he had thought was the smell of incense was actually something else entirely.

Quite a number of people spoke to them on the way out, asking whether they were guests of Mr. Stark, and once more wishing them the pleasures of the season. The priest spoke very kindly to all of them, and Agent Hill seemed very glad of the interaction. It was not until they were in the car again that Loki realized this was probably the sort of service Mitchell might have attended when he was young, when he and his brothers still lived with their parents, before the war.

He wondered whether Mitchell regretted being unable to come with them tonight. 

Once in the car, Mrs. Coulson paused in the act of fastening her seatbelt to smile at Loki. 

"What did you think?" she asked. 

"I liked it very much," he replied. "I felt most welcome-- how did you feel, Thor?" he asked over his shoulder, as he started the engine.

"Do not tell Tony, but I think I prefer Christmas to Festivus," Thor replied solemnly. 

Mrs. Coulson laughed. "And when we get back, you can decide whether you prefer tourtière to spaghetti with red sauce."

"I can hardly wait," Loki assured her as he shifted into first gear.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Notes:** So it turns out Captain America is, in fact, Catholic. I've edited the previous chapter to reflect that. Thanks to those who pointed it out. After all these years persuading myself that my characters don’t all have to be Canadian, left-handed, or Catholic, it finally came back to bite me!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Also, Tony and my dad have a Christmas ritual in common. Best way to wake on Christmas morning EVER, I assure you._
> 
>  
> 
> _Also, sorry this one took so long-- it's been a pretty full week._
> 
>  
> 
> _**Warnings:** Christmas seems to be getting the most attention in this story, for which I apologize-- it's the holiday I'm most used to, but no disrespect to any of the others is intended. Also, gift-giving can be a little fraught, so we can expect Loki to worry about it. Well, of course he does!_

It was still mostly dark outside the next morning when Loki, Annie, and their pets were jolted awake by orchestral music, ringing church bells, and an exultant tenor voice singing,

_"Joy to the World , the Lord has come!_  
 _Let earth receive her King;_  
 _Let every heart prepare Him room,_  
 _And Heaven and nature sing,_  
 _And Heaven and nature sing,_  
 _And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing!"_

Annie shrieked and sat bolt upright clutching a pillow, Loki was so startled he nearly fell out of bed, and the animals all rocketed off to hide inside the open wardrobe. It was difficult to hear anything at all over the sound of the music-- not even JARVIS responded when Loki called out-- so Loki slid out of bed, grabbed the first robe he touched (the green-and-grey one) and went out into the hall to see if he could determine what was happening. 

Agent Coulson, also clad in robe and pajamas but considerably less ruffled than Loki, and Natasha, barefoot and wrapped in a black silk kimono, were also stepping out of rooms along this hallway. Above their heads, the voice-- Loki had to admit, startling as it had been, the voice was beautiful-- now proclaimed, _"...while fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains/ Repeat the sounding joy, repeat the sounding joy--"_ and Loki had almost to shout to make himself heard:

"What _is_ this?"

Coulson, without raising his voice and yet perfectly audibly, replied, "Mario Lanza. Tony did say he was saving that record for this morning."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I certainly hope Steve is enjoying it."

Coulson's mouth curved into a smile. "I know my mother will be. This is exactly how my father always used to wake us all up on Christmas morning, too. I wonder if Tony's dad did?" He turned to Loki. "Is Annie awake? I think this is probably our signal to gather downstairs."

"I'm awake," Annie said, appearing at Loki's side. Annie's new-found ability to sleep a little was one of the pleasanter side-effects of her recent painful confrontations with her past. She responded to Coulson's greeting and added, "I'll have to tell Tony, that was enough to wake the dead. He'll be so pleased with himself."

"There'll be no living with him," Coulson agreed, and started for the stairs. 

"Wait," Loki protested, "should we not dress first?"

"If I know Tony," Coulson replied, "he'll be much happier if we all show up in our pajamas." He glanced at, but not through, the open door to Natasha's room and added calmly, "Barton, you should probably put on some pajamas. Or something."

"On it, Boss," Clint's voice came from inside the room, as the voice above them sang about the wonders of His love. 

Natasha sighed. "We'll be right behind you," she said, went into her room, and closed the door.

Loki and Annie followed Agent Coulson. The song ended when they were halfway down to the first landing, and JARVIS spoke up to ask that everyone gather in the formal living room. 

"Mr. Stark has requested that you retain your nightclothes, as long as they meet legal standards of decency for public wear, and reminds you there are extremely conservative robes in your rooms, for your convenience and the sake of everyone else's eyesight." Pause. "I should add, that was a direct quotation." As JARVIS's speech ended, Mario Lanza, at a rather lower volume, began to sing "O Christmas Tree."

"I'm going to look out of place," Annie sighed.

"My bathrobe is in the wardrobe in our room," Loki told her. "You are welcome to borrow it, if you wish to wear it over your other clothing."

Annie blinked. "That's a great idea. Thank you," she said, and vanished. 

When everyone had gathered in the living room, the plaid guests robes were much in evidence. About half of those present-- including Mitchell-- wore them over what looked more like workout clothing than sleepwear. Extrapolating from what he knew about Mitchell's habits, Loki drew his own conclusions about the customary nightwear of the others. He wondered briefly how many years he would have to spend in his current circumstances before he got over the instinct to ensure he would at least be fully clothed when he was dragged from his bed by enemies. 

And then he caught Jane's eye as she sat beside Thor, hair in a messy ponytail and slippers shaped like white rabbits peeking from under the hem of her oversized robe. He found himself smiling at both the picture she made, and the reminder there were, quite definitely, no enemies here. 

Tony and Pepper were the last to arrive, from the direction of the kitchen. Somewhat to Loki's surprise, Pepper had not "cheated" by brushing her hair or applying makeup, and Tony's hair was sticking up all over his head in a manner that made him look very much like a sleepy and excited child. They were each carrying a tray of steaming mugs, and handed them out to the others. Loki was familiar with the chocolatey drink of this realm, which could be made by adding hot water to a small quantity of brown powder. Knowing the drink was easy to make did not reduce his pleasure in Tony's gesture.

The pleasure began to turn to trepidation as Loki's thoughts turned to the brightly-wrapped packages under the tree. He had in the past not had much luck on those occasions calling for the exchange of gifts. Now that he had read mythology, he realized matters could have been a great deal worse-- he had at least never had his mouth sewn shut over a gift he offered-- but no matter what care he had taken in his choices, back in Asgard, he had somehow never managed to experience the moment of startled, "how did you ever guess?" delight he used to imagine on the faces of his loved ones when they saw what he had given them. It was not that any gift had seemed unwelcome, just that there always seemed to be something in the way-- another gift more pleasing, or given by someone more beloved. Whatever the reason, Loki had always built up these ridiculous edifices of hope, and they always crashed down under him.

He was now aware his disappointment was at least partly the natural result of investing far too many expectations in the effect of one perfectly-chosen item, one gift that would make another understand he loved them, and so make them love him in return. He preferred not to think of the details at the moment, but it occurred to Loki that he had apparently always been addicted to the grand gesture. And of course, the fact he had at the time been unable to realize he was already loved in the first place had made everything worse, imbued it with a sense of desperation to finally, finally get it right. 

Well, things were different now. He no longer placed any such exaggerated expectations on the presents he was about to offer. Tangible proofs of his affection were no longer needed to persuade anyone to love him: he and his housemates had never found it necessary to exchange gifts, and everyone here was either his friend already, or at least very kind to him, and seemed to know he was fond of them in return. There was no need to try to find a gift to prove it.

Still, he hoped what he had chosen would be pleasing. And he very much wanted to know what was in all the other packages. He pushed the unhappy memories from his mind, encouraging their replacement with a far more agreeable sense of pleasurable curiosity. 

When everyone had their hot drink and the tea trays were set aside, Tony looked around. He was rubbing his hands in a parody of fiendish glee, but Loki found himself with the impression that Tony was at least a little anxious, himself. Perhaps Tony also placed too much emphasis on the role of gifts in expressing his affections. Perhaps he was experiencing the same kind of apprehension Loki used to, with the same underlying belief that it would all end in disappointment yet again, when the reaction evoked was not the one so ardently yet secretly hoped for. 

And then, before Tony could speak, Pepper reached into a bulging pocket of her robe and pulled out a red-and-white Father Christmas hat. 

"Here," she said, handing it to Tony, "you be Santa."

As Tony put the hat on, Mrs. Coulson put on an unyielding face and said firmly, "Oh, but I think we should all have breakfast before we start opening gifts!"

Tony turned to her, mouth agape, an expression mirrored by nearly everyone in the room. "You have got to be kidding."

Mrs. Coulson held her stern expression for a full count of three before she smiled. "Of course I am. I just didn't want to disappoint Phil by not saying it." Somewhere off to his left, Loki could hear Agent Coulson muttering, _"Every year."_

Tony rejected Clint's suggestion that the others should take turns to sit on his knee-- although he made a sidelong remark to Pepper that caused her to push his hat over his eyes-- but otherwise entered into the spirit of Father Christmas with a willing heart. 

"Okay, we'll start here," he said, and picked up a small stack of envelopes decorated with brightly festive stickers. Loki's heart gave a little bump as Tony looked at the first envelope: "To Agent Coulson, from Loki."

Coulson looked surprised as he leaned forward to accept the envelope. "Thank you, Loki."

"It is… only a small thing," Loki mumbled, suddenly embarrassed, and torn between wishing he had not thought such a gift would be funny, and hoping the others would be amused. Well, it was too late to take it back, short of casting a spell to compel the others to return the envelopes and another to wipe three minutes from their memories, which did seem rather drastic. 

Tony flipped through the envelopes, distributing them appropriately, with Loki now suffering a small agony of worry that he had forgotten a guest. (He had not.) Everyone appeared puzzled, but when Tony tore his open, the whole group followed his lead. 

"Oh, hey, cool!" Tony exclaimed, as two brightly-striped bracelets-- one red and gold, the other green and silver-- fell out of the envelope into his hand. 

"Nice," said Steve, examining the red-white-and-blue and black-and-yellow strips he had received. 

"Friendship bracelets!" Pepper exclaimed, looking at her own red-and-gold and yellow-and-pink ornaments. "I haven't seen these in years!"

"I used to make them when I was in primary school," said Jane, whose bracelets were blue-and-bronze, and a sort of midnight blue and silver.

"I understand it is a popular pastime among little girls," Loki agreed. 

"So what did you do? Shanghai a bunch of them into a chain gang?" asked Clint. 

Loki by now knew better than to be troubled by Clint's exaggerated talk. "I did not understand a word of that utterance," he announced. 

"He wants to know if you made them yourself," translated Agent Hill. 

"Yes," Loki replied recklessly. Then, with greater honesty, he added, "At least, I tried to. But it would have taken more time than I had, and so I placed a spell on the threads to cause them to knot themselves into patterns. I know it was cheating, but--"

 _"Cheating,"_ snickered Bruce, exchanging glances with Jane, who was already tying on her first bracelet. 

"Seriously," Jane giggled, holding her wrist up for Thor to admire. She looked at Loki, eyes bright. "So when you say you made the threads _knot themselves,_ does that mean if we'd been there we'd have seen-- "

"Coloured threads weaving themselves together," Mitchell spoke up. 

"Took up the whole kitchen table," said George, tying on his own blue and bronze bracelet.

"It was very _Sorcerer's Apprentice_ ," Annie added. "All those little coloured shapes wriggling about."

"Loki is hardly an apprentice," Thor objected. 

Agent Hill was looking at her purple-and-blue and green-and-silver bracelets, frowning thoughtfully. "Is there any significance to the colours?" she asked. "I notice some of us have the same."

Loki squirmed a little. "Well, some of them are simply made to be cheerful, but..." 

Natasha looked around at everyone, and an enlightened expression dawning on her face. "One of them is our Hogwarts colours."

Agent Hill blinked. "Our _what?"_

"The colours that represent our Houses at Hogwarts," Natasha explained patiently. "We Sorted ourselves last Thanksgiving. That's right, you weren't there."

"No, I was in Chicago. And what House am I-- ?" Hill began, holding up her bracelets. 

"Slytherin," came a chorus of replies. 

"I thought, since most of your colleagues-- " Loki began, nervously.

"That's the sneaky, untrustworthy house, right?" asked Hill. Natasha nodded. "Oh, good," said Hill.

"I don't get why I have a Gryffindor _and_ a Slytherin one," Tony remarked, studying his. 

"One is the colours of your suit, and the other of your House," Loki explained the obvious.

Clint held up his bracelets (black-and-purple and red-and-gold) and protested, "Hey, I tried the Sorting Hat again, and this time it put me in Slytherin. So I think I should-- "

 _"Cheating,"_ Bruce repeated himself in a singsong tone. 

Loki was conscious of the eye of his housemates and his brother upon him: he had confessed to Thor exactly how many tries it had taken him to achieve his own black-and-yellow colours, and his housemates had been compelled to live with him through the process. Loki was hypocritical, but certainly not to the extent of denying Clint the same leeway he had applied to himself. He cleared his throat. 

"Which is perfectly legitimate," he announced, without looking at the others. He held out his hand to Clint. "Let me fix that for you."

Clint handed over the red and gold bracelet with an alacrity that Harry Potter might have found offensive. Loki closed both hands around it and concentrated, feeling the gold bleed into silver, and the red slide around to green. A moment later he was handing back a green-and-silver bracelet, while Jane and Bruce looked on with expressions indicating they would love to connect his brain to machines, or at least peer inside his ears with… ear-peering devices, such as doctors used on television. 

"How about you, Tony?" Mitchell prompted. "Did you try the Hat again?" 

Tony, who had also originally professed himself offended by his House assignment, grinned. "Nah. Ambitious, a little mad with power, won't follow the rules? I guess I'm okay with Slytherin." 

"And besides, the company's good," murmured Coulson, as he examined his own Slytherin bracelet, and its black-and-white companion (in making the second bracelets, Loki had tried to choose attractive, or at least bright, colour combinations, but Agent Coulson had defeated him.) Coulson looked up with a smile. "Thank you, Loki. This was a fun idea."

"Yes, thank you," echoed Mrs. Coulson, admiring her own Gryffindor bracelet (as with Agent Hill, Loki had been guessing, but he felt one would need to be most intrepid to cope with Agent Coulson and his career.) There were some other murmurs of thanks and pleasure, as the others tied their bracelets around their wrists or dropped them in their pockets, according to their wont. Loki received the impression his companions, except perhaps for Jane and Bruce who were taken with the idea of magical manufacture, viewed the gifts as amusing trinkets, a small token of friendliness, something that would soon be put away, but when found again would make the recipient smile. 

It was exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. Satisfied, Loki smiled, too, and turned his attention back to the rest of the gifts.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which everyone, including Philip and Elizabeth, has apparently been very good this year. This one's a little long-- apparently opening gifts takes a long time!
> 
>  **Warnings:** None.

Tony tilted his Father Christmas hat on the side of his head and settled down beside the tree to hand out presents. Scamp, apparently feeling rather shy with everyone all gathered together like this, curled up between Loki and Annie with her head on her front paws. Philip and Elizabeth, however, by now hiding under the tree, were wild with excitement at all the activity, batting and clutching at Tony's hands as he took the wrapped parcels from their "lair."

"Would you like me to remove them?" Loki asked, as Tony pulled his left arm back with Elizabeth wrapped around his wrist. 

"I might ask you to make me a much wider, sturdier bracelet in a minute," Tony replied, peeling Elizabeth loose as gently as possible and setting her down. She promptly rushed back under the tree, rustling the paper skirt around its base as she pounced upon her brother. Loki began to think the charm against climbing he had placed on the tree should have encompassed a rather wider range of kittenish activities. 

Tony held the gift, wrapped in paper embellished with green wreaths, in his lap as he consulted the little tag attached to it. It was abundantly clear he was drawing out the process-- Loki found himself visited with the urge to call out, "Get on with it!" like the cast in the Monty Python movie.

Eventually, however, Tony read the names on the tag: "To Maria, from Jim."

 _"Who?"_ blurted George, voicing the confusion Loki, at least, was feeling. 

"Agent Hill," Rhodey muttered, with obvious embarrassment. "From me."

The next five minutes were filled with spluttered apologies from George, and reassurances from both Agent Hill and Rhodey that they were unoffended. Agent Hill (Loki could _not_ make himself think of her as Maria, any more than he could mentally call Lt. Col. Rhodes by his given name) finally ended the exchange by tearing the paper from her gift, thus ensuring everyone's attention was drawn to it. 

"Oh, how pretty," she crooned, cradling a small wooden box, decorated with coloured inlay, in her hands. "Is it a music box?"

"Yes," Rhodey replied, looking at once stiff with embarrassment and very relieved. "There's a key on the bottom." Agent Hill promptly turned the little box over and wound the key a few turns, then set the box upright on the floor before her and lifted its lid. A tinkling tune began to play, and Agent Hill smiled as she listened to it.

"This is lovely," she said, with evident sincerity. "I used to collect-- Thank you."

"Merry Christmas," replied Rhodey, quite visibly relaxing. It occurred to Loki that, as a cause of gift-giving stress, being assigned to provide a gift to someone you did not know very well would be a considerable occasion. Rhodey's thankful glance in Agent Coulson's direction made it clear how he had learned what might be welcome. 

Mrs. Coulson was next, and received a very beautiful embroidered shawl from Natasha, who appeared as pleased with her thanks as Mrs. Coulson did with the gift. Rhodey next had, from Fury, an antique piece of navigational equipment called a sextant. It was made of polished brass and apparently could yet be used to judge one's location with reference to the sun or the stars. It was, of course, also a most attractive piece to set on one's desk.

By this time, Philip and Elizabeth had emerged from their den beneath the tree. It was evident they considered themselves to have been very good kittens, duly rewarded by Father Christmas with gifts of crumpled wrapping paper. As more gifts were opened, the kittens' glee was unrestrained, and they zoomed back and forth across the room, pouncing and tackling, and hiding under the paper so as to make it scurry as if under its own power. Scamp gave chase with energy-- it really was a mercy that she was non-corporeal and so could not overturn any small tables or the tree itself. 

There was no doubt the animals' antics slowed the process of opening presents, but no one seemed to mind. Mrs. Coulson, her new shawl wrapped around her over her pink bathrobe, dangled a piece of ribbon to make Philip stand on his hind legs and wave his forepaws as though conducting an orchestra.

Loki quite forgot his anxiety about his own gift, what with part of his attention focused on the kittens and the rest on watching the others unwrapping and reacting to their own presents. Pepper received a very beautiful silver necklace, set with blue stones the colour of her eyes, from Jane. 

"I don't know if it's your style," Jane said nervously, "it's very New Mexico, but-- "

"I can already think of three different outfits this would work with," Pepper said definitely. "Thank you, Jane. I really like turquoise, and this is stunning." 

Jane beamed, and she beamed again when she opened her own gift, from Bruce. In fact, she may have shrieked a little when she saw the soft doll depicting an old man with a mustache and wild grey hair.

"Where did you find an Einstein stuffie?" she demanded, hugging it. 

"Well, there's this thing called the Internet," Bruce replied, with a straight face. "Be careful with the box, there's also-- "

Jane dove back into the box and let out another shriek as she drew out a coffee mug decorated with what seemed to be a photograph of the same elderly man, pulling a silly face like a child. Jane actually bounced in her seat, and then draped her discarded wrapping paper over Elizabeth and giggled as it coasted rapidly away across the floor. 

Next, Agent Coulson received-- from Agent Hill-- an even more elaborate version of the red folding knife he generally carried in his pocket. 

"Is this a lock pick?" Coulson asked, his expression solemn but his eyes bright with interest.

"It could work as a lock pick," Hill agreed. "Or a hole punch, or to pry open something small."

"Could probably kill someone with it, if you needed to," Fury noted. 

"Agent Coulson could probably kill someone with Jane's bunny slippers," Annie whispered to Loki.

"That is true," Loki agreed, stifling a giggle. It crossed his mind that he would not be nearly so amused if someone pointed out his own murderous capabilities, but of course the difference was that Agent Coulson could be trusted to use his justly. "He could probably also pick a lock with Jane's bunny slippers," Loki added, in fairness. "Also, I wonder..."

He had apparently not spoken as quietly as he meant to.

"What's that, Loki?" Tony prompted. 

"I was only wondering whether I could develop a variation on the spell I placed on the carpet-bag," Loki admitted. "One that would cause such a knife to produce any small tool its owner happened to need at just the right moment. The spell on the carpet-bag works because the bag is already intended to hold things, the magic is only to let it hold _anything._ I wonder, given a knife that already knows it is meant to serve multiple purposes... I will have to experiment."

"You can have my old one to work on," Agent Coulson offered. 

"Really? I will of course return it to you whether the spell works or not," Loki said hastily, in case Agent Coulson was attached. The agent smiled, and Bruce, rather diffidently, asked, 

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to do some of the work on the spell in one of Tony's labs? Let us take a few readings while you're doing it? I mean, we won't be able to understand what's happening, exactly, but it would be really _interesting..."_ Bruce broke off, perhaps thinking Loki would be offended by the prospect of becoming a lab specimen-- or perhaps remembering what it had felt like when he had been one himself. "I mean, if you don't want to that's fine, too-- "

"I would need to do some research and a little experimentation before there was anything for you to read," Loki said quickly. "But I would be willing to participate in such a study, if it... interested you."

"There's no if about it," Bruce said quickly. "Just let us know when you're ready."

"Great," Tony said. "Now that that's settled, this one's from Mitchell to Nick." He tossed a light, flexible parcel to Fury, who opened it to find a black t-shirt with lettering across the front: _Something Wicked This Way Comes._

"It's from the Globe Theatre," Mitchell, who had certainly not addressed the gift _To Nick,_ said nervously. "We were in London, and Loki mentioned you referring to the play, so... "

"Yeah," Fury said, with what might have been a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. " _Macbeth_ is definitely my favourite of the plays. Thank you." 

"You know it's bad luck to refer to it by name or quote it, right?" Tony said. Fury gave him a look that suggested reference to a play was not the unluckiest utterance Fury might make, and also that the bad luck was apt to fall upon someone other than Fury. "Moving right along," Tony said hastily, "Thor, this is for you, from Annie. Careful, it's kind of heavy. Right, what am I saying?" he added, as Thor took the package from him. 

Philip landed in Thor's lap as though utterly confident his uncle would share the delightful, exciting wrapping paper with him. Thor undid the taped corners with great care, removing the paper from a plain cardboard box that had clearly been meant for some other purpose. When he opened it, he looked puzzled to find it stuffed with crumpled newspaper. 

"That's just to keep things from rattling around," Annie spoke up quickly, lest there be any misunderstanding. 

"Oh, of course," Thor said quickly, distributing the paper carefully between Philip and Elizabeth, in the process revealing two more wrapped items-- never let it be said that Annie did not observe the niceties-- that turned out to be a book, entitled _British Baking,_ and a heavy marble rolling pin. "These are wonderful!" Thor exclaimed, with obvious delight. 

"I hope you like the book, it's got some really nice recipes-- " Annie said anxiously. 

"Is there one for fruitcake?" Thor asked eagerly, flipping through the illustrated pages. It occurred to Loki that his brother might not know about the Midgardian conventions of table of contents or index, but before he could speak up, Jane had leaned over to offer her assistance. Loki had never seen Thor so absorbed by a book. "I like the look of these heart-shaped biscuits with the jam inside," he remarked, pausing at a page headed _Jammy Dodgers._ He looked up at Annie with a smile. "Thank you, Annie. This is a wonderful gift."

"I have a feeling we're _all_ going to be grateful to you, Annie," Clint remarked cheerfully. "Tony, give that flat one to Mitchell next. It's from me." 

Mitchell's gift turned out to be record albums, three by an American bard named John Prine and two by another named Leonard Cohen.

"I checked with Loki and George to make sure you didn't have them already," Clint said hopefully. "We seem to like some of the same music, so-- "

"They're _great,"_ Mitchell said. "Prine can be hard to find over here, especially the records. And he just _sounds_ right on LP." Clint was nodding enthusiastically, obviously pleased at the reception of his gift, as Mitchell turned the records over, one by one, to remind himself of the songs on each. "Loki, here's that song you and Thor like." 

"The one about forgiving each other until we both turn blue?" Thor asked eagerly. Loki did not recall the circumstances under which he had first heard the song, but he understood it to have been in this very house. And since Thor now used a part of the song to indicate Loki was calling him on his mobile phone, it had evidently made a great impression upon his brother. 

"Maybe we can play them later," Mitchell suggested. 

"Steve, this is for you from George," Tony announced, hefting the unwieldy parcel, now divested of its brown paper wrapping, that George had carried into the house on the first night of the celebrations. Tony grunted and addressed Steve: "You better grab this before I drop it. George, what _is_ this? Rocks?"

"No," said George, and Steve unwrapped a set of six large cloth-bound hardcover books wrapped in paper dust jackets. 

"Oh," he said, eyes shining in a way that made George relax and smile. "It's Winston Churchill's history of the Second World War," he told the others. Loki nodded, his housemates having already explained to him that Churchill had been a great leader during Steve's war. "I've been wanting to read this but I never think to ask Tony to help me find it through the computer. And hardcover editions in such good shape are hard to find anyway."

"They're more common over here," George explained. 

"I suppose so," Steve agreed. "Thank you, George. I can't wait to read them, and I know exactly where they'll fit on my bookshelves." 

It was George's turn next, and he unwrapped a strange device given him by Agent Coulson, which apparently translated one's utterances into any of a score or more of languages, both verbally and into text on a small screen.

"Thought you might find it handy, if we ever have to ask you to be our translator again," Coulson explained, making reference to the previous summer's battle against invaders from the past and beyond space, when George had been tasked with monitoring communications from various SHIELD locations around the globe. 

"It's amazing," said George, and the machine repeated his words in Farsi. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, things are decommissioned sometimes," Coulson replied vaguely. "Glad you like it." 

Bruce next received a gift nearly as unwieldy as Steve's, and Thor leaned forward eagerly to see his reaction. It was another wooden box, much larger than the one received by Agent Hill, its lid inlaid with alternating squares of dark brown and a rich honey-golden. The lid was hinged, and there was a wide, shallow drawer in the front, with a brass pull. 

"Is this a chess set?" Bruce asked, his expression bright with curiosity. 

"No," Thor replied, "although I believe you could use the surface for that game, and there is room inside to store more playing pieces. It is called _tafl,_ and is a game of strategy with certain similarities to your chess. Loki is better at it than I am, he may be willing to help me teach you." Loki was nodding as Thor went on, "I feel sure you will enjoy it."

Bruce, pulling the drawer open to examine the beautifully-crafted container as if it was the present itself, looked hesitant. "Thor, this can't have cost only-- "

"Actually, it cost nothing," Thor admitted. "After I decided the game would make a good present for you, I asked my friends back in Asgard to help me find a set that would be pleasing to look at as well as to play with. My friend Volstagg had this, and he and his family having little taste for the game he agreed to part with it in exchange for a few sparring lessons with his eldest boys. It seemed a good bargain."

Particularly, Loki thought, since Thor would doubtless have offered to spar with Volstagg's sons anyway, as soon as they were of an age to learn from it, and Volstagg certainly knew it. 

"Volstagg's wife Gudrun polished it beautifully, and all the pieces," Thor completed his explanation. "And they join me in hoping you find the game enjoyable."

"I'm sure that I will," Bruce assured him. "And it's so beautiful I'll get a lot of pleasure out of just looking at it." 

"Clint, this is for you, from Mrs. Coulson," Tony announced, handing over a bulky, soft, light parcel. Loki, with visions of Mrs. Weasley's awkwardly knitted jumpers, sat up and paid close attention. This might be very funny-- although now he knew Mrs. Coulson, he suspected it was more likely-- 

"Oh, wow," Clint said, as he opened one end of the paper wrapping. He pulled out the contents and dropped the paper to the floor, where it was immediately claimed as a cave by Elizabeth, who energetically defended her new lair from incursion by her brother. 

Clint did not notice, he was carefully unfolding the heap of soft, cream-coloured wool in his lap. It was revealed as a jumper, all right, but one beautifully crafted, with ribbed cuffs and waist, and elaborate patterns knit into it. 

"It's gorgeous," Clint said quietly, all his usual flippancy gone. 

"I hope it fits," Mrs. Coulson fussed gently. "Can you try it on so we can see?"

Clint did not need asking twice. He pulled the jumper on over his t-shirt, to confirm that it fit him perfectly. 

"It looks great on you," Annie spoke up. 

"It does," Natasha agreed.

"Irish fisherman sweaters always look great," Pepper said, leaning forward. "Especially when they're this well made. Mrs. Coulson, did you knit this?" 

"Yes," she replied tranquilly. "Clint, I'm sorry about the tag-- I usually put one inside that says _Made With Care by Gladys,_ but I ran out of them, so you have _Hand Made by Mom._ I don't mean to be presumptuous, I just wanted to make sure you remembered who made it for you. "

Loki was probably not the only one who thought there was no chance whatsoever that Clint would ever forget where the garment had come from, or that he would object to such a tag, but it took him a moment to compose himself enough to say so. 

"No, it's fine," Clint said, in a slightly strangled voice. "Thank you, Mrs. Coulson. I think this is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me."

"I'm very glad you like it, Clint," Mrs. Coulson replied warmly. "Merry Christmas." 

"Annie?" Tony said, capturing her attention. "This is from Steve." He held out a flat rectangular package. She pulled open the paper, frowning in concentration, while Steve watched with eager anxiety. 

It was a picture. That much was obvious from the back, framed and with the wire already on for hanging. Remembering that Steve was an artist, Loki leaned forward as Annie turned it over. 

"Oh," Annie breathed, with much the same note in her voice as Clint had. "Oh, _Steve._ Thank you." She turned the frame so that everyone could see.

It was a portrait of the four of them, sitting together on the sofa in their lounge. Steve, having once fallen prey to a malign spell, had been taken into the household, and so he knew what their sofa looked like. He had at the time been able to see Annie, and had done so on a couple of occasions afterward. As Loki knew better than anyone, Annie once seen was impossible to forget. 

The picture was drawn in soft coloured pencils. Steve had perfectly captured the exact shade of Annie's skin, the shape of her beautiful dark eyes, the curve of her lips. But he had also accurately depicted Mitchell's black curls and look of mischief, and George's open-hearted friendliness and the freckles around his eyes. Loki in the picture was perhaps a little idealized, the sharp lines of his face softened more than was strictly truthful as he smiled out at the observer. Still, it was a lie born of kindness and made Loki fit in with his friends, he and Mitchell at the ends of the sofa with Annie and George between them, Loki's arm around her. 

The fact neither Annie nor Mitchell could be captured by a camera made this picture even more precious. Annie stared at it for a long moment, then set it gently down, walked over to Steve, and embraced him. Steve's face was flaming when she released him, but you could not say he looked displeased with her reaction. 

"Loki, you're up next," Tony announced. "This is from Pepper."

"Thank you, Pepper," Loki said, as he took the bulky but lightweight box.

"You're supposed to say that _after_ you see what it is," Tony rebuked him. 

"Tony, don't pick on people for having nice manners," Pepper rebuked in return. "You're welcome, Loki. I just hope you like it."

"Wait, don't open it yet," Tony said quickly. "You're supposed to shake it first and try to figure out what it is."

"Nobody else did so," Loki objected. 

"Well, you weren't here when Pepper and I came downstairs, but we gave everything a good shake on the sly before anyone else was up. Go on," Tony prompted. 

It seemed easier to give in than to continue to argue, and besides, no one was laughing at him any more than they were at Tony. Loki obediently shook the box, hearing a faint rustling and a soft thump. These clues were insufficient to guess at the contents.

"Oh, hey, I hope it's not a guinea pig," Tony said suddenly. "Because a guinea pig wouldn't like that treatment one bit."

"It's not a guinea pig," Pepper said, mock-severely. "And stop teasing him." 

Tony relented, and Loki finally began to remove the wrappings, revealing a box with a taped-shut lid. Agent Coulson offered his new pocket knife, and Loki carefully slit the tape with it. He gave back the knife, pulled open the flaps of the box, and peered inside. 

And then he began to laugh. He reached into the box and pulled out a happy-looking, cuddly, toy rhinoceros. Annie cooed, and both George and Mitchell giggled. 

"I love him," Loki announced. "Thank you, Pepper."

"There should be an envelope in there, too," Pepper prompted. Loki looked, and sure enough there was indeed an envelope, bearing the panda logo of the World Wildlife Fund. "It's a certificate of adoption-- " She blanched, perhaps afraid he would be offended, and went hastily on, "That's just the expression they use, to say I made a donation in your name for rhino conservation. They call it 'adopting' the animal."

Loki stared at her. "Really? You did that for me?" Pepper nodded. "That is a wonderful present. Thank you so much." He opened the envelope and brought out the materials: a fact sheet, bookmarks, some stickers-- Loki suspected this adoption business was perhaps intended mostly to interest children in wildlife conservation, but he did not mind at all. It was a very thoughtful gesture. 

He was so taken up with his gift that he almost missed Tony pulling out the one marked, "To Tony, From Loki." Annie gently poked him and he turned his attention to Tony, trying to mask his own nervousness, but somewhat comforted by the fact a few of the others had also seemed anxious about gifts that were very well-received. 

"This one's damn heavy, too. If you don't mind I think I won't shake it," Tony said, and tore at the paper to reveal yet another carved wooden box. "Wow, this is great."

"The actual present is inside," Loki spoke up hastily. Tony patted the lid, then undid the clasps and opened it. Inside, as Loki well knew, was straw for packing, and--

"Holy _shit,"_ Tony breathed, lifting out a bottle of a golden liquid, corked and sealed with wax. "Is this-- this is mead, isn't it? From Asgard?"

"Yes," Loki replied. "There should be four bottles of that size, and one much smaller one."

Tony rustled around in the straw and found the smaller bottle, which was filled with a clear red fluid rather like cranberry juice. "Okay, what's this?"

"A cure devised by Eir the healer, for treatment of the aftereffects of drink," Loki explained. "Even so," he added, over everyone's laughter, "I really recommend you dilute the mead with water when you serve it out. Even Thor and I find it rather powerful in its pure state." 

"This is _great,"_ Tony said. "Thank you, Loki."

"You are most welcome," Loki replied, with an internal sigh of relief. He had been worried about what he could possibly offer to a man who could, quite literally, afford nearly anything on Midgard. The only solution had been to find something that could not be found on this realm. Tony seemed very pleased and intrigued, which was all Loki had hoped for. 

Tony looked up with a big smile. "Really, this is unbelievably cool. We'll all have to try some at dinner. Thank you." He carefully replaced the bottles, closed and patted the lid, and then picked up a final, rather small, parcel. "Natasha, this is from me. Merry Christmas." 

"Thanks, Tony," Natasha replied as she accepted the gift. Without seeming to notice everyone's eyes now upon her, she undid the wrapping and opened the box within. "Oh," she breathed, and for once the Black Widow sounded disconcerted. 

The box contained a small oval figure about six inches tall, nearly egg-shaped, painted to look like a girl wearing a red cape over colourful peasant garb.

"There's a switch on the back," Tony said, in an uncharacteristically diffident voice. Natasha looked, did something with her fingernail, and hastily set down the little figure as a motor came to life inside it and a melody began to play. 

"'Dark Eyes,'" Natasha said softly, to Clint who looked questioning. "It's a Russian folk song." 

The little figure rolled gently in a circle, to the fascination of Philip, Elizabeth, and Scamp. Then it stopped, and all three pets leaped backwards in surprise as the top half of the figure split open along the vertical plane, revealing a second, identical, but smaller doll inside. The song began again and the figure revolved as though dancing, opening again and again to reveal four more equally elaborate dolls within. Then the song ended, and one by one the tiny figures closed themselves until only one was smiling at them. Even knowing the joins were there, they were still almost impossible to see. 

Natasha had a hand over her mouth by now, and Loki for one did not really know where to look. 

"I always wanted-- when I was little. Dolls like that. When I still... " She seemed to have no words to explain herself. 

"Yeah," Tony said gently. "You mentioned it one time, when we were flying someplace on a mission." And that was the thing about Tony: he was so skilled at pretending he never thought of anyone but himself, it was easy not to notice how he noticed things. 

Natasha looked up, her expression almost fierce, and Loki winced inside, hoping she would allow herself-- hoping she would not find a way not to have this thing that little girl had yearned over. "Tony, you can't tell me this only cost fifty dollars."

"It didn't," Tony replied promptly. 

"There was a rule," she insisted, as though Natasha was ever concerned with rules.

"Pish-posh," Tony said, his tone gently teasing now. "Like we Slytherins care about rules."

"What did it-- ?" she insisted, and Loki was quite sure she would make herself give it back if Tony gave the wrong answer, as if she should not be allowed to _have_ things.

Tony shrugged. "It's hard to say, really. I mean, if you think about all the R&D that went into designing and upgrading JARVIS over the years, I'd say millions. But if you consider the cost of scrap metal and paint and stuff left over from the last redesign of the suit... Nothing."

Natasha stared at him. "You made this?" Tony nodded. "For me?"

"Well, in fairness, JARVIS made it. I just designed it," Tony admitted. "But I did the painting on the faces. Cute, aren't they?"

"You made this for me," Natasha put the string of words together, and Tony nodded again. "Why?"

Tony shrugged. "I thought you probably would like to have it. I wish you'd had those dolls a long time ago. Merry Christmas, Natasha." 

Natasha put her hand over her mouth again, looking down at the smiling toy Tony had taken such trouble to give her because that long-ago little girl deserved to have had it.

Loki caught Annie by the hand and they got to their feet. They were not the only ones who felt the same sudden urge to go start breakfast. Leaving Clint and Natasha with Tony and Mrs. Coulson, the others quietly left the room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which Christmas comes to a close.
> 
>  **Warnings** For a little blatant plagiarism at the very end-- see the notes there for details and apologies.

"If we plan to eat before midnight, we really should start the turkey now," Steve remarked as the group left Natasha, Clint, Tony, and Mrs. Coulson in the living room and went down the hall together. "We should put the leftover tourtière in another container, so we can use the roasting pan-- "

"What leftover tourtière?" Rhodey laughed. "We went through it last night like the locusts through Egypt-- "

"-- I'll explain that later," George told Loki, aside, when Loki turned a questioning face to him.

"-- and I think the roasting pan is already washed."

"It is," Loki confirmed. He and Thor had seen to that, and to the plates and cutlery, after they had eaten their late meal upon returning from church. 

"Wonderful," Steve smiled. "Let's have breakfast and get the bird in the oven, and then we can work out timelines for everything else."

"Sounds good," Bruce agreed. "And maybe later Thor and Loki can teach us how to play _tafl._ Unless of course we all want to work all day."

"You're starting to sound like Tony," Jane teased. 

Loki's only previous experience with participating in the preparation of a really large meal had come the month before, when he had taken part in the Avengers' Thanksgiving celebration. This business of feeding such a large group over several days was certainly time-consuming. Loki thought perhaps, on his next visit to Asgard, he would endeavour to learn whether the kitchen staff considered themselves to be suitably recompensed for all their work. He was thinking about what sort of approach might be both fruitful and discreet as he searched the cupboards for breakfast cereal. 

Steve, thanks apparently to the super-soldier serum, needed a lot of food and was in the habit of consuming a large cooked breakfast every morning. Thor, thanks to… being Thor… also needed a great deal of morning fuel and had the same sort of breakfast. Everyone else, despite their enjoyment of Steve's efforts the previous morning, were quite ready to return to their normal routines. Loki found a box of prepared muesli, which he shared with Pepper and Jane, while most of the others made toast or cooked smaller portions of eggs. There was fresh fruit, and Annie made tea as well as coffee. 

By the time Tony and the others rejoined them, the first group had nearly finished with their breakfasts, and Loki was amusing everyone by enchanting Jane's bunny slippers to chase each other around the kitchen. They hopped up to Tony, and then followed him as he made for the coffee. 

"Okay," he said briskly, after a long gulp from his mug, "what evil plans have you made to work us all day, Steve?"

"None," Steve replied tolerantly. "I thought we'd get the turkey in the oven, and while it's cooking we can… go fool around outside again, or something. Maybe play board games later." He glanced at Loki and Annie as he spoke of the outdoors, and Loki paused in the act of raising his mug of tea to tilt it in salute.

Tony, who almost certainly knew or at least suspected something of Steve's aversion to cold, smiled. "Great idea, Steve. Everyone else okay with that plan?" General nods. "Terrific. Now, if _someone_ would call off these bunnies, that would be really good, too."

~oOo~

Never let it be said that Steve lacked organizational skills. Between them, he and Mrs. Coulson calculated the length of time needed for the turkey to cook, as well as the large roast of beef Tony had added on the grounds it would be more interesting to have a choice of meats, rather than simply cooking two turkeys for the large group. Then they worked out an acceptable time to eat their Christmas dinner, as well as cooking times for the vegetable dishes and desserts, figuring backward to determine when each must begin to cook. 

Once this timetable was in place, the two actually _synchronized their watches_ , and Agent Coulson set appropriate alerts on his mobile phone to ensure no deadline was missed. Really, Loki felt tired and rather dizzy just listening to them.

Clint, apparently recovered from his bout of sentimentality, proposed a snowball fight as their outdoor game. This did not sound like much fun to Loki. It was not that he distrusted Clint's intentions-- much-- but after all the songs of peace on Earth and goodwill toward others, it seemed an inappropriate activity for Christmas. And it must be admitted, it also seemed like the kind of activity he would prefer not to engage in with known assassins. 

Fortunately, Pepper and Jane rejected the suggestion out of hand, citing the same reservations as Loki was thinking of. Bruce agreed, adding that being hit in the head with projectiles of any sort was not especially conducive to his own good temper. George helpfully proposed instead a contest, to see who could make the best snowman.

"For real?" Clint began to object, and Loki decided the peaceful working of the group called for a gesture on his part. 

"You do not wish to participate only because you know you cannot make a better man of snow than can a Jotun," he challenged. Clint's eyes gleamed.

"Okay, now, _those_ are fighting words," he announced. 

Which was how Loki found himself in his Jotun form-- to say nothing of his ridiculous red shorts-- building snowmen with his housemates. The others were formed into teams scattered about the grounds, with Agent and Mrs. Coulson serving as judges of their output. 

Loki required a certain amount of guidance-- this was not a game played by Aesir children, and since this winter had not been very snowy in Bristol, Loki had not recently seen any snowmen in the parks and so had no suitable mental picture to follow. 

"They're not meant to have legs, Loki," George argued. 

"Of course they must have legs," Loki argued back. "Does not the song say that Frosty the Snowman _had to hurry on his way_? Are we expected to believe he _rolled_ over the fields of snow, using his bottom as a _wheel?_ And besides, the animated program we saw on the television, about the little boy who befriends the snowman, clearly showed-- "

"But that snowman only got legs when he came alive," George insisted, pushing his spectacles up his nose. 

"Also," Mitchell added, "I'm pretty sure neither he nor Frosty was an exact portrait of Helblindi." All four of them paused in their work of collecting snow to look up at Loki's twelve-foot-tall construction of the wise old Jotun councillor. Mitchell added, "Not that it isn't dead impressive, mind." 

"Well," Loki sulked, "being tasked with making a man out of snow, I saw no reason not to make a _specific_ man. And who could possibly be more suitable for such a portrait-- "

"Really, this is more of an ice sculpture, I think," Annie said peaceably. "But it definitely proves your point to Clint." That being exactly what Loki had had in mind-- the fact he had issued his challenge mostly as a distraction did not mean it was not in earnest-- he now permitted himself to be guided in the construction of a true Midgardian snowman.

Well, snowwoman, actually-- all of them agreed in the end that their creation somehow bore a more-than-passing resemblance to Professor Sprout from the Harry Potter stories. With that in mind, they added a few snow flowerpots around her feet and a pointed hat on her head, completing their work just as the Coulsons arrived to call time on the contest. 

Walking around the grounds, it became abundantly clear Loki was not the only one who had initially misunderstood the point of the activity. 

"Brother, this is a fine portrait of Volstagg!" Loki exclaimed, looking with admiration at the vast bearded figure Thor had created with the assistance of Jane and Bruce. 

"Thank you, brother," Thor replied, face glowing with cold and exercise. "It seemed to me he was an excellent model." 

"Couldn't agree more," Bruce said cheerfully, as Jane surreptitiously patted at the details of their snow-armour.

Tony's group produced the most traditional-looking of the snowmen, which was rather less surprising when one considered his group included Pepper, Rhodey, and Steve. They were also the only group to have thought of using props, in the form of a scarf, an old hat, and a long-abandoned pipe, to decorate their creation. In spite of his own competitive urge to be best, Loki found himself agreeing that this snowman really did look the most like the one from the television program. 

Clint, Natasha, Fury and Hill did not make a snowman at all-- their creation turned out to be a carnivorous dinosaur, aimed down the hill toward the snowman created by Tony's group, complete with slavering snowy fangs and little clutching snowy arms.

"How very _Calvin & Hobbes_ of you," Tony remarked obscurely, as he walked around the creature, stepping carefully over its tail. 

By the time Coulson and his mother gave the honours to Tony's group, nobody was terribly concerned about who had won-- there being no actual prize at stake, all Loki cared about was the look on Clint's face when he first beheld Snowblindi, and that was indeed gratifying. 

And then he applied a little ice magic to the snowrannosaurus rex, to make it more lifelike, and followed the others back into the house. He stepped into the study to the right of the entry hall, closed the door, changed forms, and put on the clothing he had left there. By the time he emerged, Clint and Natasha were busy mopping up the snow that had fallen from everyone's clothing, and the others were divided between tidying the discarded wrapping paper in the living room (JARVIS reporting that Philip, Elizabeth, and Scamp had retreated upstairs to the bedroom to sleep) and activities in the kitchen. 

Thor and Jane stepped out of the living room when they heard the study door. 

"Brother," Thor addressed him, "I wonder if you and your friends would agree to join Jane and me in a few minutes, upstairs in our room. We have presents."

"As do we," said Loki, who had been wondering when they should make this private exchange. "We will come find you shortly." 

Which, after retrieving their gifts from the carpet bag, Loki and his friends duly did. 

They had agreed among themselves to keep their presents quite small, although they had not declared a specific limit to cost. The housemates, among themselves, had decided to make certificates for each other, redeemable at any time of the year: _Loki will do the washing-up for Mitchell; The whole household will watch P &P with Annie,_ and so on. 

The gifts between Thor and Jane and the housemates were a little more traditional. It was apparent from Jane's expression of anxious excitement that she had taken the lead in making the selections.

Everyone sat on the floor and distributed the presents-- Loki, Mitchell, and George received from Thor and Jane what seemed to be the same thing, judging by dimension and the feeling of the parcels. And, when they were opened, they turned out to _be_ the same thing: neatly folded grey t-shirts. 

Mitchell unfolded his first-- and let out a shout of laughter. He held the shirt up to his chest so that everyone could see the image of a sharp-toothed Muppet wearing a monocle and cape, the legend around him declaring _How I Love To Count!_

Loki's shirt depicted the furry blue monster, Grover, wearing a makeshift helmet and red cape, with the label _Super Grover!_ beneath him. Jane's expression indicated momentary apprehension that Loki might fail to see the humour in being compared to a furry blue monster, even a superheroic and lovable one, but she seemed much reassured when he burst out laughing and then leaned over to hug her. 

"How did you know Grover is my favourite Muppet?" he asked.

"I didn't," Jane admitted. "I just thought… and Thor said you might-- "

"I will not wear this to cook in," Loki said, "but I will put it on after supper."

"So will I," Mitchell agreed. "George?"

George, giggling, displayed the image of Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, the bespectacled Muppet scientist.

"I was expecting Animal," he admitted.

"Well, you don't play drums," explained Jane. "And except for the full moon-- "

"I do see the resemblance," George agreed. "Thank you."

Annie received a DVD set of a program called _Upstairs, Downstairs,_ which Loki had been asked to ascertain would be welcome. She seemed surprised and pleased.

"Sorry, we couldn't get hold of Colin Firth for you," Jane explained. 

"Well, said Thor, "we _could_ have, but I believe there are laws forbidding such a thing, and anyway he might have proved difficult to wrap."

Once appropriate thanks had been given, Loki and his friends watched Thor open his own gift. He looked a little befuddled at the small appliance the removed paper revealed. 

"It's a toaster oven," explained Jane, who had offered assistance in the selection of this gift-- she and Annie had chosen it between themselves. "See, you can use it to make toast, or heat up a snack-- Loki, you said you came to the States to buy it, right?" 

Loki nodded. Apparently there were differences in electrical currents, or some such. "Annie and I took a short excursion some weeks back."

"So you can use it at my place, or Tony's," Jane explained, and then added, "But the most important thing is-- Loki?"

"I have placed a small enchantment on the controls," Loki explained. Thor looked puzzled, and Loki spelled it out: "An enchantment against breaking off in anyone's hands. You should be able to enjoy your Pop-Tarts in peace now, brother." 

"That is remarkably thoughtful of you all," Thor said, cradling the appliance in his large hands. "Thank you very much."

Jane now unwrapped her gift, disclosing a book in ancient leather binding. The title was worn off the spine, so she opened it, blinking as the runes inside rearranged themselves into English text. 

"Is this… is this what I think it is?" she asked softly. 

"It is from my old collection," Loki explained. He had no hand in the spell on the book, it was one intended for use by scholars of any realm. "I apologize, it is meant for… not children, exactly, but the young. As an introduction to the history of the Nine Realms. It was very old when I acquired it, and… It was written before the war, you see, and so its depiction of Jotunheim is rather less… I did not believe it, particularly, when I read it as a boy, but I now think it is more accurate than the later accounts that were used as the basis for Thor's and my education." He thought of the book Annie had brought from the library of Asgard, also written before the war, also depicting the Jotnar as a people instead of mindless beasts. He wondered whether the writers of these books had regretted the change in perception of Asgard toward its neighbour, or whether they had told themselves the mistake was theirs. 

"Oh, _Loki,"_ Jane breathed, carefully turning over the pages, which were now all written in clear English, and in many cases beautifully illustrated. "It's wonderful. Thank you. Thank you all," she added scrupulously, understanding that Loki had simply chosen a gift for them all to give her, much as she had selected the t-shirts on behalf of herself and Thor. 

"Merry Christmas," Mitchell said, smiling at her. 

~oOo~

Loki leaned back on a sofa in the gathering room, pleasantly full of Christmas dinner and rather sleepy. All the plans of Steve and the Coulsons had come to fruition, and dinner had been excellent. Even Tony, under the guidance of Annie, had mixed a batter for Yorkshire puddings and produced crusty golden puffs to serve with the roasted meat and vegetables. Tony's pride in his accomplishment was both well-deserved and ill-concealed. Loki could only think of his own first attempts at cooking, and how pleased he had been when his friends praised-- and ate-- his efforts. 

While waiting for dinner, Thor and Loki had taught the others to play _tafl_ , coaching Bruce and Jane through a game as an illustration. Thor, as giver of the gift, had insisted on advising Bruce as its recipient, which meant Loki sided with Jane, who was victorious. Bruce had probably seen through Thor's ruse but seemed amused, and also eager to take on other comers tomorrow. 

Now, with the washing-up done-- not even Steve had objected to the use of magic tonight-- and the leftovers safely stored for later consumption, everyone was happily settled in to digest, and wait for Tony to set up the last of his cherished Christmas records. Loki, with kittens in his lap and Annie leaning against him as if she too were full of dinner, perked up a little when JARVIS spoke:

"Mr. Stark has asked me to tell you, this is one final ritual of Christmas: you are all going to be read a story." Not even Natasha, her hand curled around something small and egg-shaped, or Clint in his new jumper, had anything derisive to say. Tony walked back into the room and snuggled down in the place Pepper had saved for him, just as from above they heard the characteristic popping hiss of a very old record album.

And then a rich Welsh-accented voice began to speak: 

_"One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now, and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep-- "_

"This was another thing Dad used to do, when we had Christmas here," Tony said softly, and then fell silent so they could all listen:

_"All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand, into that wool-white, bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea-- "_

Loki raised his head a little in surprise, and glanced at Tony. With his arm around Pepper, Tony was smiling, but he was looking up at the speaker whence came the voice, and he was not in the same room with the rest them. 

Loki let his head fall back again, and the voice washed over him. 

~oOo~

Mitchell did not express distress when it was time for bed, but Loki and Annie still gestured toward their staircase, in a wordless invitation that he and George wordlessly accepted.

A short time later, night time ablutions performed, clad in pajamas, with everyone else settling down for the night, Loki took one last look through the bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-colored snow. 

He turned the thermostat down. He got into bed. He said some words ("Good night, and happy Christmas, everyone") to the close and holy darkness-- and then he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Note:** Many of you will be aware the last two paragraphs of this chapter are not entirely my creation. For those of you who might not have been, credit and thanks are due to Dylan Thomas and his story, "A Child's Christmas In Wales." _


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we address Kwanzaa, which is actually a seven-day festival that gets only one day of observance here. I'm really sorry to give so much more play to Christmas than to the other holidays. I guess that, since it's the one I celebrate, it was just easier for me to think of a lot of things to write. 
> 
> **Warnings:** This is, sadly, a very talky chapter. Since I am not of African descent, and have never taken part in a Kwanzaa celebration, I'm working solely from research for the Kwanzaa 101 section that makes up most of the chapter. My intentions are respectful but I apologize in advance for whatever I get wrong-- I am sincerely trying to avoid Racefail of Ignorance.
> 
> Although... well, things do get a little bit silly at the end...

It transpired that breakfast on Boxing Day was very similar to breakfast on the day after Thanksgiving. Loki carefully spread cranberry sauce on his first slice of toast, arranged turkey and dressing on top of it, and then shook salt and pepper over the lot before adding the second slice of toast. 

He was chewing his first bite when Tony and Fury walked into the kitchen, Fury looking very grim indeed. The impression was only slightly diminished by his _Something Wicked This Way Comes_ t-shirt and the presence of two kittens and a ghost dog tagging along at his heels. 

Before anyone else could speak, Fury nodded shortly at the room in general and greeted them: 

_"Habari gani."_

"Gesundheit," Loki replied politely. He knew perfectly well this must be an inappropriate answer, given that Fury had not sneezed, but he had no idea what a suitable response would be and it seemed as though someone should say _something._

Fury glanced at him as though he considered smiling, but then decided not to. Tony hastened to the coffee maker and busied himself with pouring out a mug. After a moment's consideration, he handed the first mug to Fury and filled a second for himself. 

Fury moved toward the seat at the head of the long kitchen worktable, which George obligingly vacated. As he sat down, Fury spoke again: 

"Joyous Kwanzaa." The greeting was mumbled back at him, more out of uncertainty than actual reluctance. Fury glanced at Loki and his friends, and remarked, "I realize that as far as you all are concerned, this is Boxing Day." After what had happened the first night, none of the housemates was fool enough to agree.

"Do you observe Boxing Day, George?" Agent Hill asked suddenly. "I mean, if you don't celebrate Christmas, ordinarily, I mean-- "

George, now seated beside Mitchell, smiled. "I never turn up my nose at a public holiday."

"It's also St. Stephen's Day," Mitchell said unexpectedly. "We celebrated it in Ireland, when I was a kid."

Steve blinked as something came together in his mind. "Is that the same thing as the Feast of Stephen?" 

"Yes," Mitchell agreed, and, for the benefit of those who had not yet made the same connection, sang gently, _"'Good King Wenceslas looked out/ On the Feast of Stephen...'"_

"I used to wonder about that," Steve admitted. "Whether it was a real observance. I just never thought to look it up."

"Yeah," Mitchell confirmed. "I don't think it's as widely observed as it used to be, but when I was a kid it was a sort of mummer's festival." He glanced at Fury, who gave no sign of being furious-- yet-- and added hastily, "But now we're wandering from the topic. Kwanzaa, yeah?"

"First day of Kwanzaa," Fury corrected. "It's actually a seven-day cultural festival that originated in the African-American community of the United States, back in the mid-1960s. It's spread some, to other communities of people descended from the African diaspora, as a way of honouring our African heritage." He glanced at Loki and his friends. "I believe it's celebrated to some extent in Britain."

"I have seen references to the observance," Loki admitted. "Although, as I do not know anyone of African descent-- ouch!" He looked in surprise at Annie, who had pinched him. 

"You know _me,_ for one," she told him. "And Carol-- " Loki's supervisor at the school where he worked-- "and Mrs. Kingston-- " who was the head teacher of the school. "And Trevor," she added, referencing one of the children at the school who, along with his friend Patrick, ensured Loki's days were rarely boring. "And probably a ton of other people I don't know because I don't hang around your job all the time."

"Your family is from _London,_ " Loki protested. "And Mrs. Kingston's family is from the island of Trinidad-- she told me so. I looked in an atlas, and Trinidad is not in Africa. And Carol-- I think she once said her mother and father came to Britain from Jamaica, which is an island in the same part of the world. I confess I do not know about Trevor," he admitted. "He has an uncle who lives in Yorkshire."

Looking around, Loki became conscious of everyone else looking amused-- except for Thor, who seemed just as confused as Loki. Annie forbore to pinch him again, instead explaining,

"Okay, that's all true. My dad's family also came to Britain from Trinidad. But their ancestors arrived in Trinidad from the western part of the continent of Africa, like Col. Fury and Rhodey's ancestors went to the United States from parts of Africa."

"Oh," said Loki, feeling very stupid. Annie patted his knee, and no one laughed at him. 

"We can look some of this up later, if you're interested," she said. "There's no reason you'd have known, since it's never come up in conversation. Anyway, though, there are people all over the world-- all over Midgard-- who are descended from people who came from somewhere else-- not always willingly." She hesitated, and Loki had time to think about people fleeing, for example, from a madman bent on the destruction of their realm and all who lived upon it. 

Much to his relief, Director Fury spoke again. "Getting back to Kwanzaa. As I say, it's a cultural festival, rather than a largely religious one like Christmas or Hanukkah. Because people of African descent are in the minority in the United States, the founder of Kwanzaa wanted to create an observance specifically for them-- us-- as a possible alternative to existing holidays that originated with what would be referred to as the dominant culture."

"It is somewhat the same in Asgard," Thor spoke up suddenly. "There are people from other realms living there, and though they participate in Yule, for example, they also have celebrations of their own, such as they would observe in their homelands." Thor, Loki reflected, almost certainly had many friends in those communities and had probably seen such celebrations at first-hand, by invitation. 

"Yeah, exactly," Fury agreed. "In this case, because the people involved might have come from one of a number of different African countries, the focus is on the continent as a whole, and the connection back to it." 

Loki, by now afraid of looking the fool again, raised his hand hesitantly, like a schoolchild. Fury nodded acknowledgement like a teacher, and Loki asked, 

"If this is an observance intended for people whose ancestry may be traced to Africa, so they may not forget or lose that connection... is it appropriate for us to join in who are _not?"_ He had worded it badly, but Fury seemed to understand what he was trying to say. 

"Kwanzaa isn't universally observed by African-Americans-- "

"My family never did," Rhodey remarked. 

"Or mine," Annie agreed. "My parents used to take us to Caribbean cultural events, but we never really worried much about the connection to Africa behind it. I suppose that felt like a layer too many, or something."

Loki raised his eyebrows. "And yet you pinched me." 

Annie patted his leg again. "Yes, sorry about that."

"Right," Fury nodded. "There are also people who, for reasons of their own, observe Kwanzaa despite not being of African descent. Of course, you could make the argument that all human life may have originated in Africa, just based on the archeological site called the Cradle of Humankind, which is in South Africa. That's where the oldest known fossils of creatures who were part of the evolution of humans have been found. So, if you go far enough back-- " Fury shrugged. Loki-- who was not human at all, and unlike his housemates never had been-- opened his mouth, thought better of what he was going to say, and closed it. Director Fury either guessed his intent or had the same thought, because he added, with no change in his usual deadpan expression, "You and Thor can join in just because we like you. All right?"

"All right," Loki agreed, relieved. 

Fury did not smile, but once again there was the suggestion he might have briefly considered doing so. 

"Okay, then. The short introduction to Kwanzaa. 

"As I said, it's a cultural festival that's supposed to be celebrated over seven days, from the twenty-sixth of December to January first. Originally, Kwanzaa wasn't intended to be celebrated in conjunction with other holidays, but in practice a lot of African Americans, at least, celebrate it in addition to the other holidays like Christmas, according to their religious beliefs. I assume that's true in the other places Kwanzaa is observed. 

"Each of the seven days of the holiday is devoted to the observance of one of the seven principles, or _Nguzo Saba._ The principles are: _Umoja,_ or unity; _Kujichagulia,_ or self-determination; _Ujima,_ or collective work and responsibility; _Ujamaa,_ cooperative economics; _Nia,_ or purpose; _Kuumba,_ creativity; and _Imani,_ which is faith."

"I can't believe you remembered all that off the top of your head," Rhodey said, speaking most likely for most of the group. 

Brushing off the compliment, Fury went on, "Now, when Tony brought up Kwanzaa, I have to admit I wasn't quite sure how we should approach it, in the context of this whole ball of holidays idea. Festivus is literally a joke, something just for fun. Most of us in the group celebrate Christmas, or did at some time in the past, so I have no problem with the amount of energy that's been dedicated to it. Yule, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa are all important to one or two of us, and it seems to me that Yule, anyway, was partly an observance and partly a way for the rest of us to learn a little about Thor and Loki's culture. Is that fair?" Everyone nodded. "That being the case, I thought maybe the same would be true for Kwanzaa. 

"You'll have noticed that most of the principles of Kwanzaa are specifically targeted toward the African-descended community. The one I felt able to single out was _Kuumba,_ creativity. I thought it might be fun-- " No one openly reacted to the idea of Director Fury having _fun,_ but Loki was probably not the only one present who found the idea hard to imagine-- "if we chose that as our principle for today, and we worked in teams to... to both illustrate it, and also to learn something to share with the rest of us. I have some suggestions, if anybody needs one."

"Sounds good," Natasha said recklessly, and everyone else nodded as they finished their turkey sandwiches.

~oOo~

"I like this character of Anansi," Loki said, turning another page of the book Fury had provided his team. 

"There's a shock," Tony smirked. "One good trickster deserves another, and all that."

Loki sniffed and continued scanning the illustrated text. "However, it is a little disappointing to see how frequently his plans are foiled. Anansi himself seems to be _killed_ in nearly all the stories in the Jamaican section of the book."

"I guess that's supposed to be a reminder that crime doesn't pay, or something like that," Steve offered. 

"Well, we _know_ that," Loki grumbled, without looking up from the book. "It only seems that, to gain a reputation as a trickster, one should be able to actually _trick_ someone occasionally and get away with it."

"Says the completely unbiased observer," Clint snickered. Loki huffed, and relinquished the book to Rhodey when the latter extended his hand. 

"There's one I remember reading in school," Rhodey said, consulting the index. "Here it is-- _Anansi Brings Stories To the World._ Anansi wins in that one. And I even think his intentions are mostly good, too." 

"How many characters does it have?" Tony asked, leaning over Rhodey's shoulder to look. "We might need to liberate someone from the cooking party."

"Don't take Annie," Jane pleaded. "When she mentioned jerk chicken I completely forgot that I was never going to be hungry again."

After Director Fury's introductory remarks, the group had split into two teams, one to cook a suitable Kwanzaa feast-- Loki, remembering the original invitation to the Ball of Holidays, with its many references to feasting, wondered whether even Tony had foreseen exactly how _much_ food the event would entail-- and the other to choose a story to dramatize for the edification and amusement of all. 

The feast was meant to feature African foods, and indeed Director Fury had provided a recipe for a delicious-sounding stew originating in southern Africa, which contained tomatoes, chicken, and peanuts. However, in recognition of their earlier conversation concerning the African diaspora and where the affected people had ended up, there had been universal and enthusiastic acceptance of Annie's offer to prepare "jerk chicken," which was a Caribbean specialty she had learned from her grandmother. 

Loki liked to cook, but it had to be confessed that he enjoyed dramatizing himself even more. Also, given the lack of available props and backdrops, there was much to be said for including one who could cast glamours in the play group. 

Preparation for the meal and the performance occupied much of the day. At one point, Tony seized the book and ran away with it. When he returned, it was to announce that, thanks to the wonders of something called optical character recognition, JARVIS now had the entire story committed to memory and would be pleased to take the role of narrator. 

"So all we have to do is act out the parts," Tony explained. Loki found that rather disappointing, but his view was greatly in the minority, judging by the looks on everyone else's faces. And really, given the short time available to them, Loki supposed it would be unfeasible for everyone to attempt to learn lines for their parts. 

The matter of casting those parts took little time, being mostly a matter of ensuring there was a body assigned to each role. Loki was by general consensus given the role of Anansi the Spider, and after some discussion Rhodey the Air Force officer took the role of Nyame, the Sky God. Natasha grumbled a little about her assignment as the angry fairy, but gave in with relatively good grace, and after several run-throughs they declared themselves ready to present their play at about the same time dinner preparations reached the stage at which the food could be temporarily left to its own devices. 

Everyone gathered in the living room with the tree. Bruce, Steve, and Agent Hill sat on the floor in a circle, chins in hands to represent boredom, staring into the small fire Loki had glamoured into being between them. 

They held their pose for a moment, and then JARVIS's smooth voice introduced the performance:

 _"Anansi Brings Stories To the World._ Anansi stretched his eight legs as he sat in the middle of his web-- "

This was Loki's cue to make his entrance. Out in the hallway, he assumed the glamour he had chosen to represent his character, and did so.

The reaction was dramatic, but not exactly the one he had anticipated: several members of the party screamed-- it was perhaps more accurate to say that George _shrieked_ \-- and Steve instinctively leaped to his feet to put himself between Loki and the onlookers. Bruce took one look and incontinently fled through the archway into the dining room, and thence to the kitchen. 

"What in the Nine-- ?" Loki protested, coming to a flustered stop and waving his front four legs in protest. "It is only me!"

Steve took a deep, steadying breath. "God, Loki-- do you have _any_ idea how disturbing that is? You look like-- "

"A man who is a spider," Loki replied. "Yes-- that is what we are told Anansi is. So I have become a spider with the head of a man. You saw the illustrations in the book, and I look _exactly_ like them!"

Tony found his tongue. "Yeah, but the illustrations in the book weren't _more than six feet tall_ and _in the room with us._ That makes a _considerable_ difference."

Pepper had her hands over her eyes. "I'm sorry, I just can't-- "

Thor spoke up now, sounding aggravated and defensive. "Did we not ask Loki to take the role of Anansi the Spider because he could _become_ a spider?"

"Yes, of course," Steve said placatingly, sounding rather out of breath. "We just didn't expect him to turn himself into-- "

 _"An abomination against nature!"_ Tony yelped. 

Loki folded his foremost two legs and scowled at everyone. "I have not _turned myself into_ anything. This is merely a glamour."

"OhthankGod," said several voices, in chorus. 

"Obviously," Loki huffed. "There is no such thing as a man who is a spider. Well, except for the superhero I have not met, but that is hardly the same thing."

"Seriously, Loki, can you just turn back into yourself while we talk about this? I'm about to die of the willies over here," Natasha protested. 

"Okay, if _Natasha_ has the creeps, that's your hint there's something really wrong with the situation," Mitchell pointed out-- to the floor, since apparently he could not make himself look directly at Loki. 

"Oh, very well," Loki sulked. There was a flash of green, and where the giant, human-headed spider had been, there stood a skinny figure in jeans and a Super Grover t-shirt. He and Thor, looking equally offended, faced the rest of the group.

"I cannot believe you are making such a _fuss_ about this tiny matter," Thor scolded. 

"Are you seriously telling me that you weren't completely creeped out by that?" Tony demanded. To Loki, he added, "Look, man, you know we love you, but _seriously_ \-- " Words, for once, failed him. 

"Have either of you read _The Island of Dr. Moreau_?" Agent Coulson asked, as unflappable as ever. His mother, equally composed, nodded thoughtfully.

"A drawing in a book is one thing," Annie said kindly. "Seeing it actually come to life in front of us? It really is a bit disturbing."

Loki sighed.

"Perhaps I could offer a compromise," he said in resignation. 

"Oh, _now_ he's ready to compromise," Clint muttered, and Natasha hit him. 

Loki concentrated for a moment. There was a green flash, and once again before them stood a large and hairy gray spider.

This time, however, Loki had carefully cloaked himself in what was clearly the semblance of a Muppet, from its fluffy fabric surface to the rods by which some invisible puppeteer might manipulate his eight limbs. True, he closely resembled the rather unpleasant character in _A Muppet Christmas Carol_ , but it was evident from the expressions on his friends' faces that this form was acceptable to them. Steve went to the kitchen to retrieve Bruce.

"Shall we try again?" Loki asked, and then, without waiting for an answer, he organized his many legs and scuttled into the hall, to await his cue once again.

Steve, Bruce, and Agent Hill sat down on the floor once more, and JARVIS started his narration once again:

 _"Anansi Brings Stories To the World._ Anansi stretched his eight legs as he sat in the middle of his web-- "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Note:_** For the text of the story discussed here, see http://myths.e2bn.org/index.php


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which we come to the final day of the Wool-White, Bell-Tongued Ball of Holidays. There will be a final wrap-up chapter after this. Thanks to everyone who's been reading this ball of nonsense!

"I thought that went pretty well," Mitchell remarked, blowing the smoke from his cigarette downwind from the others. 

"It did," agreed Annie. Loki, sitting on Annie's other side on the stone wall behind the house, nodded as well. Dinner had been most enjoyable, and the play, once they had gotten underway, entertaining. He had been particularly amused by the way his brother had thrown himself into his role as Osebo the python, who is tricked into being tied to a palm stick. It seemed to Loki that Thor was far more open to acting the fool here than on Asgard, presumably because he was not surrounded by people over whom he would eventually have to rule. It was, Loki considered, probably a liberating thought.

"It was fun-- at least, once we got over the whole spider-with-the-head-of-a-man unpleasantness," George agreed, tightening the arm he had slung around Loki's shoulders to emphasize that he was only teasing. 

"Yes, well," Loki muttered, embarrassed once again, "that was certainly not the reaction I had in mind. I was merely trying to make the story as much like the book as possible. I had no intention of ruining the fun by frightening everyone."

"Aw, we know that," Mitchell said soothingly. 

"And you didn't ruin anything," Annie added. "It started being funny as soon as you put your own body back on. I really think everyone else was mostly embarrassed at the way _they_ reacted." 

Loki started to repeat his original point, that his intention had not been to alarm or disgust, but George spoke up first:

"And anyway, if you _had_ told us what you were going to do, I for one would have laughed and said that it sounded like a great idea."

"So would I," Bruce agreed, from the far side of George. "In _theory,_ a giant spider with your face really does sound pretty funny. It went all to hell in practice, but if you'd said anything in advance I would have told you it sounded awesome, go ahead."

"But if you had been prepared, you would possibly not have had to flee the room for fear of… an episode… when you saw me," Loki pointed out. 

"Oh, I probably would have had to do that anyway," Bruce assured him. "I still would have gotten a hell of a jolt, when I realized what you actually looked like, and it's always best for me to excuse myself if I get taken by surprise like that. Not your fault." 

"You were not angry?" Loki asked, giving in to this last little need for reassurance.

"Nope," Bruce replied. "I don't usually Hulk out involuntarily except when I'm angry, but a shot of adrenaline for any reason can make me shaky for a minute. That's all it was. Like I said, best if I excuse myself." He sighed. "Anyway, as much as I love all these guys, in our own weird little way, I still find I need to hide in my room and do yoga a couple of times a day. I'm having a great time, really, but it's _tiring_ to be around all these people and all this confusion, and I really don't want to have… an episode, as you call it, and destroy Tony's house." After a pause, he added, "Particularly since I'm beginning to think nearly every happy memory he has of his family is somehow tied to this place."

"You noticed that, too?" Annie asked. 

"Yeah, and I'd hate to be the one who ruins it for him," Bruce muttered. 

Annie leaned over Scamp, Loki and George to pat him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the club," she said gravely. Bruce blinked in surprise, then reluctantly laughed. 

Mitchell pinched out the dog-end of his cigarette, pressed it carefully into the snow on top of the stone wall until all heat was extinguished, and put it into his pocket to dispose of in the trash. Loki pulled his spell of warmth and dry trousers from around and under them, and all of them slid off the wall to return to the house, Scamp jumping down from her place between Annie and Loki. 

"Thanks for letting me join you," Bruce, who had fallen in with them as they left the house, said awkwardly. "I hope I didn't disrupt a house meeting or anything." 

"Nah," Mitchell said with a smile. "I just needed to get away from all those heartbeats for a little while." Bruce, for all his intelligence, looked bewildered. "Vampire," Mitchell reminded him gently, then added, "I get a little testy, myself. Only I'm better if I'm _not_ alone when I feel that way."

"Oh, damn," Bruce murmured. "And I just butted in."

"Not a problem, really," Mitchell replied. "I'm easiest with supernaturals and aliens, but you and Steve aren't as… Whatever your enhancements are, they make you feel different. All right, _smell_ different. Less of a temptation. Everyone else-- " He made a helpless little gesture. 

Bruce had clearly not given any thought to this, because he looked startled and alarmed. "And Mrs. Coulson is-- "

"Bruce," Mitchell interrupted mildly, "if I really lost control, _none_ of the unenhanced humans, including Fury, would have a prayer unless they happened to have the sharp stick right in their hands when I went for them. It might be a good idea, really, if I was to spar with Coulson or Clint a little, just to make sure they know what they'll be up against if I ever lose it."

Loki was quite sure it was not simply the absence of his warming spell that made him suddenly feel so cold all over. Bruce, looking dumbfounded, tried once again to make light of the situation:

"Natasha would probably be able to-- "

"I'm way worse with women," Mitchell said flatly. "Which I hate about myself, but there it is. Natasha's a badass human, but I'm supernatural, I'm already dead, and I've killed more people than some of you lot have _met_." He smiled tightly. "I don't plan on going back to the old ways, mind. It's just… I've learned to be conscious of myself."

"Same here," George added. "The werewolf issue-- it's only once a month, but it takes managing." He smiled, bespectacled and decent. "We have an idea what you're up against, is what we're saying."

"So you do," Bruce agreed, looking surprised and… relieved. Loki remained silent, for once realizing he had nothing to contribute to this discussion.

Annie called to Scamp, and the six of them walked back into the house. 

~oOo~

"Tell us about Hanukkah, George," Loki requested, from his cozy position curled up on one of the couches in the gathering room, with Annie leaning against him. 

"That's not until tomorrow," George pointed out. "It's still Kwanzaa tonight."

"Ah, I kind of considered that over after we made the toasts at dinner," Fury shrugged. "Tony, I've been underestimating how much energy it must be taking for you to play host to all these people all this time. I'm impressed."

"Call it my superpower," Tony replied. "I am filled with hosting strength. Even if I did cry like a little girl over that jerk chicken. Which was wonderful, Annie."

"Next time I'll plan ahead," Annie promised. "It would have been a lot spicier if I had marinated it overnight."

"Let's all just think about that for a minute," Pepper suggested. _"Spicier."_

"It was pretty nearly weapons-grade as it was," Hill commented. "That's a compliment, by the way." 

"I liked it very much," Loki said dreamily, ignoring the predictable catcalls from the corner where Clint and Natasha were pretending not to snuggle. "Really, George, what is the story of Hanukkah? It is one of the important holidays for Jewish people, yes?"

"Actually, no," George replied. "It's not one of the major holidays, at least from a religious point of view. Culturally, it has a high profile mostly because it falls near Christmas and we tend to celebrate it as… our version of the big family holiday, especially in places where most of the population is Christian. It's actually of a lot less significance than, for instance, Passover-- "

"Which celebrates the escape of the Jews from Egypt, long ago," Loki said. He looked around, aware of surprised eyes upon him. "What? There is an animated film."

"Beats Charlton Heston, I guess," Rhodey mused. 

"-- and what we call the High Holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur," George went on. "Those happen in September. Rosh Hashanah is New Year in our calendar, which is followed by ten days in which we reflect on what we've done wrong over the course of the previous year. We focus on making amends, and asking and offering forgiveness. It ends with Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement."

"Man, you guys really know how to throw a party," Clint noted, and Natasha poked him in the ribs.

"Oh," Loki said, thoughtfully. "That sounds… that sounds very interesting."

"Do they have Jews on Asgard? Or Jotunheim?" Mitchell asked, deadpan. 

"I've wondered that myself," George replied, with a little grin at the puzzled expression on Loki's face. "Anyway, Hanukkah commemorates the miracle of the oil and the reconsecration of the Temple after the Maccabean Revolt-- I think I had better back up a little, hadn't I?"

"If you would not mind," Loki said gratefully.

"Okay. Short version: over two thousand years ago, the country of Judea came under the control of an empire that tried to forbid Jewish religious practice as a means of exerting control over the people and assimilating them into the empire. That led to a group called the 'Maccabees' revolting and engaging the empire in guerilla warfare. They succeeded in winning back their religious freedom and took back the Temple in Jerusalem, which they cleansed and rededicated to Jewish religious practice. 

"When it came time to light the Menorah-- a seven-branched ceremonial lamp-- they found nearly all the ceremonial olive oil had been used up for non-religious purposes, and they only had enough sacred oil to keep the Menorah lit for a single day. In spite of that, the oil lasted for eight days, which was how long it took to obtain more oil. Hanukkah commemorates the miracle of the lights and also the victory of the rebel forces-- and if anyone says a single word about _Star Wars,_ I will hunt you down on the next full moon."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Tony said quickly, and Mitchell laughed at him. 

George glared at Mitchell, to absolutely no effect, and went on, "Anyway, for eight nights we light the eight-branched menorah one candle at a time, say the Hallel prayer and sing special songs, eat foods fried in oil, play the dreidel game, and give _gelt_ or gifts." He smiled. "Although I think we've got that covered already."

"Go back to the fried foods," Clint requested.

"What did I tell you?" Tony giggled. "Favourite holiday _ever_."

"Yes, Tony, you're a genius," George agreed patiently. 

"Why do you all keep sounding _surprised_ when you say that?" Tony protested. Pepper patted his head consolingly. 

"So, tomorrow we celebrate with fried chicken!" Clint went on, as though the others had not spoken. Loki raised himself up to look at Tony in astonishment. 

"I am not sure if 'genius' is as appropriate a term as 'mind reader,'" he remarked. 

"Barton, remind me to have a word with you about cultural sensitivity training," Coulson sighed. "Sorry, George."

"Aw, hey, George-- I didn't mean to be an asshole," Clint said hastily. 

"I know," George assured him. "It's fine. I can't promise you fried chicken, but I hope you'll like potato latkes."

Clint raised his tumbler of rum and eggnog in salute. "I have no doubt, man." 

~oOo~

"You know what, George, I think I hate potato latkes."

Loki glanced up from the grater he was bent over, across the table at Clint, who was engaged in a similar manner. They had been engaged in this task since mid-morning, although to Loki it felt much longer. He was beginning to believe nothing existed in the world except for the vista of potatoes before him, waiting to be grated. At the sink, Steve and Agent Hill scraped the peeling from yet more of the tuberous vegetables to add to his sentence.

"How can you possibly know that you hate potato latkes when you haven’t eaten any yet?" Steve argued. 

Clint held up a badly scuffed hand. "I haven't eaten _them_ , but _they_ have had a go at eating _me,_ or at least this damn grater has. And I hope these things aren't supposed to be vegetarian, because-- "

Mrs. Coulson, on the other side of the room surrounded by the ingredients for making doughnuts, looked up. "Clint, would you be able to help me over here?"

Clint immediately looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Mrs. Coulson, I shouldn't be whining-- " Catching sight of the astonishment his apology brought to the faces of his friends and colleagues, Clint actually blushed.

Thor nudged him out of the way. "It is my turn to assist with the potatoes. Go help with the doughnuts." Clint rose, washed his hands at the sink, and made his way to Mrs. Coulson's work station. 

"Thank you, Clint," Mrs. Coulson smiled. "I could use one more set of hands-- Natasha?" The Black Widow rose with alacrity from the sofa and went to help. 

Loki returned his attention to the hill of grated potato before him, and the mountain range yet to be dealt with. "You are aware that I could do this more quickly with the use of a little magic, yes?" 

"I was about to say I could probably jerry-rig some sort of grating machine," Tony spoke up. "I'm kind of sorry I didn't think to bring the bots along." 

"Of course you could," George replied cheerfully, "but it's not really Hanukkah until someone scrapes a knuckle." 

"Oh, it's Hanukkah, all right," Clint assured him. 

"George, you said you brought a dreidel, right?" Tony asked. George nodded. "And it's made out of clay? Like in the song?"

"Oh great, now I have Raffi in my head," Annie complained as she grated onion-- Annie had taken this task on the grounds that she was less affected by onion fumes than anyone else in the group. 

"Mine's wooden, but yes, they're often made of clay," George agreed.

"Oh, good. And here I just happen to have a buttload of white sculpting clay and a box of wooden sticks in the storage room," Tony crowed. 

"You really do have hosting superpowers," Rhodey congratulated him. Tony bowed. 

~oOo~

Mrs. Coulson' doughnuts, cooked in a deep-fat fryer and shaken in sugar, turned out beautifully. She apologized for the lack of jelly in the centres, but no one seemed inclined to complain, or to leave many leftovers. 

The potato latkes were perhaps a little less successful to begin with, the first few coming apart and ending up frizzled in the skillet. However, eventually the right consistency of potato, onion, egg and flour was reached, and Steve-- already adept with the skillet-- was soon flipping delightfully browned potato pancakes onto plates, to be garnished with sour cream and chopped green onion. Clint apologized handsomely for his earlier comments regarding the nature and antecedents of latkes, and Loki also felt his efforts had been worthwhile. 

Following the meal, the group retrieved the dreidels they had made earlier of the sculpting clay, and then baked in the ovens to harden. Using markers, with George's dreidel as a model, they drew a Hebrew letter on each side: _nun, gimmel, hey_ , and _shin._

"We don’t actually each need a dreidel," George had objected. 

"No, but it's fun," Tony had replied, drawing his letters with great care. 

George had brought a bag of almonds, which was supplemented with another of jelly babies, to use as game pieces. Everyone received a share, and broke into four groups to play rounds of the game. 

"It's really pretty simple," George said nervously, concerned perhaps that the others would find it dull. "Everyone puts a single game piece in the bowl in the centre, and then you take turns to spin the dreidel and do as the letters tell you. If it lands showing _nun_ , you do nothing. _Hey_ means, take half the pot-- or half plus one, if there's an odd number in the pot. _Shin_ means you put one piece in the pot, and if it lands on _gimmel_ you take the whole pot. If there's one or fewer pieces in the pot, everyone puts one more piece in, and let's say that if someone runs out of pieces, the person with the most pieces left lends them one."

"Commie game," Clint muttered. Natasha hit him. 

Grinning, George went on, "The rounds ends when one person has won all the pieces, and that person goes on to the next round."

"This could take days," Natasha remarked. 

"Well, yes," George admitted. 

"Sounds like some of those all-night poker games we used to get into," Rhodey said to Tony. 

"Not exactly," Tony murmured.

The game did not take quite that long, but it took three lengthy rounds to declare an overall winner. There were a few accusations of cheating directed by Clint toward Loki, who was in his opening-round group with George and Annie. 

"How can you possibly accuse me of cheating when I hardly understand the game and I am _losing?"_ Loki defended himself. 

Clint gave him a narrow-eyed glare. "You've got that peaky look you get, when you cast magic for too long. And it's still cheating if you're making sure _George or Annie_ wins." Annie, who was in the midst of a considerable run of luck, looked up sharply. George, with the most game pieces, sighed.

"Really, Loki?" he asked. Loki's expression of offended innocence did not appear to fool anyone, and George turned to Clint. "Do you want to start over?"

"Nah," Clint shrugged. "I shouldn't have said anything, I was kind of looking forward to seeing what he did when it was you and Annie going head-to-head." 

"I intended to let nature take its course," Loki mumbled. 

"Of course you were," Clint snickered. 

"Well, if you've got any cheating magic to spare, Loki, I'm getting killed over here," Mitchell called across the room. 

"Loki," Thor warned. Loki tried the offended look again. It failed again. 

"Oh, very well," he huffed. It was his turn to spin, and he spun his dreidel, which landed on nun. "Your turn, Clint." 

George's win in their group was not seriously contested by anyone, and he faced Steve in the next round, while Bruce played against Tony. The championship round pitted George against Bruce. Fortunately, the Hulk seemed to have no strong opinions on winning or losing, and when George proved the ultimate victor ("I had nothing to do with it!" Loki insisted) there were no… incidents.

And then George scrupulously divided up the almonds and candy among the others, and they sat eating and arguing in a desultory fashion about whether it was too late to begin watching Tony's copy of _Fiddler On the Roof._ It was only when Jane made an offhand remark about packing that Loki realized this was their final night at Tony's house. 

Tony was thinking the same thing. 

"We should have one final blowout breakfast tomorrow, before anyone has to catch a train or anything," he suggested. Looking suddenly embarrassed, he added, "I want to thank all of you for coming, guys. This is… I haven't had this much fun over the holidays in years. I really appreciate the way you've all humoured me."

"It's not humouring when you're having as much fun as we have," Steve replied warmly. "Like I said before-- thank you for arranging all this."

"And for including us," Loki added, gesturing around at his friends. "It was thoughtful and very kind of you." 

Tony looked for a moment as though he might repeat his performance of Christmas Eve and bolt from the room, but Pepper had a firm grip on his hand. Instead, he blushed and muttered, "Wouldn't have been the same without all of you. Thanks for playing along."

"Glad to do it," Fury said. "We should probably have a last toast to the Wool-White, Bell-Tongued Ball Of Holidays, and then watch that movie. Sound good?"

And everyone agreed that it did.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Notes:_** In which it is time to say goodbye. There is a confrontation-- of sorts-- and a kind of critical mass of fluff.
> 
>  ** _Warnings:_** None. Except for fluff. Shameless, shameless fluff.

The whole party rose early on the morning of December twenty-eighth. Steve and Thor appointed themselves in charge of cooking breakfast for everyone, while Annie and Pepper made tea and coffee respectively. 

Loki had stripped the bed and then packed the carpet-bag with his own clothing and toiletries, leaving the kittens' dishes and litter box for the last possible moment before they had to go in their carrier. He had thanked JARVIS for his supervision of the kittens, was wearing his Super Grover t-shirt, and had set the household's gifts in a pile together underneath the Christmas tree. All that remained were George and Mitchell's things. Probably Mitchell would end in a scramble, stuffing his belongings into his backpack at the last possible minute, or perhaps he would simply bundle everything into the carpet-bag to be sorted out later. Either way, they would surely be ready to catch the mid-morning train to begin their long trip back to Bristol. 

Loki poured out a mug of coffee and delivered it to the counter near his brother's work station. Thor, scrambling eggs, glanced up with a smile of thanks. Loki took his own cup of tea and went over to sit with Annie. 

Pepper poured out her own coffee and looked around. Perhaps sensing a slight mood of anti-climax, she asked, "Does anyone have plans for New Year's?"

"Yes," Bruce replied, surprisingly. Less surprisingly, he elaborated, "There's a three-day meditation retreat at a monastery in New Hampshire. It seemed like a good way to clear the slate and start the new year on the right foot." 

"Me and Nat have… a thing… in Romania," Clint contributed, as he delivered a plate of eggs and toast to Mrs. Coulson. Nobody asked for more specifics-- possibly, Loki thought, because they suspected this might be the sort of "thing" that, if anyone knew the specifics, Natasha and Clint might be forced to kill them.

"Not that kind of a thing," Natasha spoke up, apparently reading minds as easily as Tony did. "Just a bunch of… old friends and colleagues." She paused, then added, "Yes, _that_ kind of old friends and colleagues."

"Pepper and I also have a _thing,_ " Tony said, amused. "Big noisy ridiculous charity ball in New York. I'd invite you all, except I wouldn't do that to you. The main thing in its favour is I get to see Pepper all dressed up to the nines, and that might not be quite as much of a draw for the rest of you."

"George has plans with his friend Nina," Mitchell said, with a mischievous smile. Georg blushed as everyone's attention turned his way. Mitchell went on, "Loki and Annie and I were going to have a drink with a couple of friends, but I think their plans have changed, is that right?"

Thor spoke up: "Loki and Annie have agreed to return with me to Asgard, for the last two days of the Yule celebrations." He cast a quick, fond glance at his brother and added, "Mother and Father will be so pleased to have them." 

Loki blushed as hard as George had, and Annie put a hand on his back. "Yes, well, I will be very glad to be there, too."

~oOo~

True to prediction, Mitchell left his packing to the last possible minute. Loki and Annie, their own things neatly stowed in the carpet-bag, sat in the formal living room enjoying their last moments with the tree, while they waited for George to impose order upon Mitchell. 

This was where Tony, who had offered to drive them to the train station, found them. 

"Oh, hey," he said, a little awkwardly. "You're all set, then?"

"That we are," Annie replied, with a smile. "Just waiting for the rest of the boys." 

Tony sat down in an armchair near the sofa the two occupied. "Well, that's good, then." Still looking a little fidgety, he added, "You know, I'd be glad to arrange to get you home-- "

Loki smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, Tony, really, but it is not necessary. We will be home tomorrow evening, and then Annie and I will meet Thor in New Mexico to travel to Asgard by Bifrost."

"It's just such a long train trip," Tony persisted. "And you're probably all pretty tired right now, so by the time you get home-- "

"That is true," Loki agreed. "We will indeed be very tired. But it would be worth a great deal more inconvenience to come here and have such a wonderful time as we have had." He glanced at Annie, who gave her warmest smile and nodded. 

"Exactly," she said. "We were so happy to be included, and we had such a good time-- it's been worth every second of that train ride. And really, we were glad just to see _you_ again, too. That's always nice." 

Tony, true to form, turned scarlet and started to rise, as if to run away again. Loki tried very hard, now, to use his powers for good purposes. He _did,_ and knew he must not use them for dark or evil reasons such as overpowering the free will of others or bending them to his wishes. He was _conscious_ of his actions, he took responsibility for them. It was necessary: if he was to avoid falling back into the ways that had led to such disaster for himself and everyone around him, it was vital that he be mindful of others, respectful of their limits, of what the humans called their _boundaries,_ and to not trespass upon them. 

Knowing all those things, Loki still cast a small jolt of magic at Tony, and gently pushed him back down in the armchair to prevent his escape. Then he leaned forward and said quietly, 

"Tony, you and I have long recognized… certain similarities between ourselves, yes?" He did not wait for Tony's reply before going on, "It occurs to me, therefore, that-- like myself-- you might sometimes need certain things made clear to you that are obvious to everyone else. 

"You did not need to collect us in Bristol, nor to deliver us home-- it is extremely kind of you to offer to do so, and I appreciate the thought, but it is unnecessary. And the reason it is unnecessary is, we want to visit you, because we like you very much. I cannot say enough about how enjoyable this visit has been, and I think everyone has been most impressed with your creativity, and your kindness, and the efforts and trouble you took to ensure that all of us would feel amused and welcome and included. This whole visit has been a masterwork of hospitality and imagination, but Tony, if you had invited my friends and me to come here for a week and sit on the sofa watching movies and eating potato crisps, we would have been happy to do that, too, just for the pleasure of your company. All right?"

Tony's face was by now so red and hot that Loki was slightly surprised not to see steam rising from his hair. He seemed incapable of response, and so Loki pressed a little farther:

"I have mentioned similarities between ourselves. The most obvious is, of course, the fact both of us were raised by… difficult… fathers, apparently distant and with standards that seemed impossible for us to meet. Yes?"

"Yes," Tony finally said, in a strangled little whisper. 

"I should not have the arrogance to speak for your father, inasmuch as I have never met him and he can no longer speak for himself, but-- You know to what ridiculous lengths I went, trying to prove myself worthy of the love of my father, only to learn after all that pain and grief that I had always had his love all along. And… and it turned out, after everything-- " Loki suddenly found his throat painfully tight, and had to cough before he could go on-- "it turned out that, when I began to display concern for weaker creatures than myself, to show consideration, a little plain kindness-- it turned out that pleased him better than any of my grand schemes could have done. 

"I should not speak for your father, or your mother, but it seems to me that, on some level, all parents want their children to grow to be _good people._ Mine had to wait and worry, while I gave them every reason to believe I would only disappoint them. Yours… You fool no one, Tony, with your flippancy and playful boasting. You have a kind heart, an awareness of the impact of your actions, and the imagination to picture how they will affect others for good or ill. You are a _good man,_ and all of us love you for it, and wherever they are, your father and mother are very proud of you. I _know_ this." 

There being nothing else he wished to add to his words, Loki pulled the spell away from Tony, who shot to his feet. Loki rose in a more leisurely fashion, still facing him, and Tony let out an awkward laugh, looking desperately embarrassed.

"Wow. That was… quite a speech, Loki. Is that everything you wanted to spring on me?"

"No," Loki replied, took a swift step toward Tony, and wrapped his long arms around the man.

This was far from the first embrace between the two, but prior instances had involved straightforward hugs of greeting, mostly initiated by Tony and intended at least partly to tease. Now that Loki was thinking about the similarities between Tony and himself, he thought there might be at least one more, and so he held on until Tony stopped trying to free himself, put his own arms around Loki, and hugged back. Owing to his greater height, Loki found his next words addressed mostly to the top of the other's head: "We all appreciate your talents, but we love _you,_ and if you feel the wish for our company, you need only ask us to visit or receive you. These elaborate occasions are enjoyable, but not _necessary._ All right?"

"All right," Tony finally replied, rather muffled by Loki's shoulder. 

"Good," Loki said. "I am so glad we have that all clear between us."

But it was some little time more before he released his hold on the human, and all the while Tony made no further efforts to free himself. 

~oOo~

Two additional days of feasting-- Asgardian feasting-- had reminded Loki of the difference between human and Aesir appetites. The great bonfire had welcomed back the sun the previous morning, to the sound of all the voices of the palace, and many citizens of the town beyond, singing the old songs together. The halls and corridors and chambers were bright with decorations and their own accustomed golden glow.

On this final evening, Loki found himself, once more, leaning back on a comfortable seat, eyes slitted against the bright flames that licked at the Yule log in the king's private apartments. Annie's head was a welcome weight on his shoulder, and in his hand a goblet of warm spiced wine emitted an inviting scent. He sighed in contentment, turning his head when a gentle touch brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. 

"What are you thinking of, my child?" his mother's voice asked, warm and loving and interested. 

"On Midgard, this is the feast of the New Year," Loki murmured. "A time to… reflect."

"Oh? And on what do you reflect?" Mother asked quietly. 

Loki marshalled his sleepy thoughts, trying to make sense of them. This was not the New Year described by George, the one meant for reflection on wrongs done and amends to be made. Even so… there was much, surely, left to be attempted in that direction? Loki was neither fool enough, nor arrogant enough, to believe he had no further need of such contemplation, of such efforts. Of course not.

And yet…

Loki glanced down at Annie, asleep against his shoulder and holding his hand. Annie, whose ability to sleep at all was a symbol of her own courage and determination, holding _his_ hand. He looked across the room at his brother and father, then up at his mother: all of them golden as the glow from the fire, all of them for the moment not rulers or future rulers of this realm, but simply people who loved him, had forgiven him and in this past year welcomed him back into their lives. 

He thought of the previous week's laughter and acceptance, of the way a band of misfits and outcasts had turned themselves into a family, with room enough for any who might need them. 

He thought of the little pink house in Bristol, where George and Mitchell and their pets and their friends would be celebrating the Midgardian New Year, awaiting the return of the rest of those who belonged there. 

"I believe," he told his mother, "the practice is known upon Midgard as _counting one's blessings._ I have been trying to do so, but I fear I do not know enough numbers." 

His mother's fingers stroked through his hair once again, then she leaned down to kiss his temple. "It is a problem I also understand. A joyous Yule to you, my son, and more joy in the year to come."

Loki smiled up at her. "And to you, Mother." Looking around the room, he amended, "All of you." 

And, still wrapped in a golden glow that was indistinguishable from love, Loki shifted over so his mother could sit beside him and lean against his other shoulder.


	19. Final Author's Note and Correction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small note to call your attention to a correction in [**Chapter Twelve**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/722109/chapters/1414233).

Ordinarily, I do a little research on stories that are mostly set in real places, but I fell down on the job this time. 

The gang, you may recall, is spending the holidays at Tony's Scottish house, which is in the Highlands an easy drive from Thurso. Several of them attended Mass on Christmas Eve, in a generically-described Catholic church (because I am Catholic, so it was easy to write about.)

Now, I did find out they would have been in the Diocese of Aberdeen, but for some reason I totally missed the fact that Thurso is part of the parish of [**St. Joachim and St. Anne**](http://saintjoachimandsaintanne.webs.com/), and the church they attended must have been [**St. Anne's**](http://www.stsjoachimandanne.herobo.com/1_2_Saint-Anne-RC-Church.html), which is located on Sweyn Road, Thurso, just a couple of blocks from the train station. 

I've retconned the relevant chapter to reflect this information, in case anyone else is a bit picky about such things!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Wool-White Bell-Tongued Ball of Holidays Fan Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/923679) by [FracturedIron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FracturedIron/pseuds/FracturedIron)
  * [SLED ATTACK](https://archiveofourown.org/works/934979) by [FracturedIron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FracturedIron/pseuds/FracturedIron)




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